by Yasuo Uchida
"Because I've known about you ever since I was a little girl. That's why I chose the university you were teaching at."
"Really? You amaze me even more. But how did you know about me?"
"I saw your name in a book in my house."
"You did? My name? Hm, let's see. If it was when you were a little girl, that must have been maybe ten years ago. About the time I published A New Interpretation of Past and Present Tales, I think."
"No, I don't mean that kind of book. It was a concise dictionary."
"A what?"
"An English dictionary. And the name Tomohiro Tachibana had been written in it with a pen."
Tachibana sat speechless.
"I think I was only in the second or third grade in elementary school, but every time I saw your name, I wondered who you were. Finally I asked my mother, and she told me you were the son of a viscount. I didn't really know what a viscount was, but my mother told me that a viscount was an even greater man than the great baron who she said grew the potatoes that were called 'baron' potatoes. So I figured you must be a very great man. Then when I entered junior high school and my Japanese teacher said we were going to use a supplementary reader written by Professor Tachibana, I was really surprised. Then .. ."
"Hold on a minute," said Tachibana, checking Yuko's glib tongue. "How did that concise dictionary happen to be in your house?"
"I don't know. Actually, only a little while after I asked my mother about it, it just disappeared, and a new one appeared in its place on the bookshelf. It was a pretty old dictionary, so I figured maybe that was why my mother had bought a new one to replace it, but when I asked her, she said grandpa had told her to do it. I was happy about the new dictionary, of course, but I missed the old one, too. When I asked what had happened to it, though, nobody would tell me, and I remember feeling kind of lonely for it."
Tachibana felt a pain in his chest, as of something clutching at his heart. He had a dim memory of a concise dictionary he had given away to someone, but he wondered how it had gotten to Yuko's house. Of course, that had been a period when nobody had any property at all, let alone books, so the dictionary could have made the rounds of secondhand bookstores, finally coming into the hands of Yuko's mother, or her grandfather when he was younger. But if that had been so, how would Yuko's mother have known about the Tachibana family being viscounts? Unless, perhaps, he had pretentiously written "viscount" beside his name in the dictionary. Having been brought up among people who addressed him obsequiously as "young master" and such, he would have been capable of such folly
"Your home is in Yashiro, isn't it?" he asked.
"Yes, that's right. But how did you know, Professor?"
"Hmh? Oh, er, I checked on a few things about you, too."
"Did you really? Oh, that makes me so happy!"
"By the way, how long has your family been living there?"
"Since my great-grandfather's time."
"And where is your mother from?"
"Oh, it was my father who was adopted into the family to marry my mother."
"I see." Tachibana was disappointed. "You were so familiar with the Togakushi legend that I had assumed you were from Togakushi."
"My mother used to tell me stories about the Demoness, then when I entered high school, I began doing a little research of my own. My mother said that grandfather and great-grandmother used to tell her the stories. I heard that my grandfather's parents once lived in Togakushi for a while."
"Oh, where?"
"A place called Hoko Shrine."
"Hoko Shrine?" Tachibana slumped deep into the armchair with a suffocating feeling. Could it be? Was it really possible? "Was your great-grandfather by any chance named Keijiro?"
"Yes, he was. Keijiro. Did you know him?"
"Mhm." His chest tight, Tachibana remembered the old couple telling him of a son in the army. "So that's it. But I didn't know the family name, Noya. So, it was Keijiro's..."
Again he looked hard at Yuko. Innocently, she returned his gaze. There was a resemblance, he thought, tense again. Not to Keijiro or his wife, of course. No, she looked like Taki, though he couldn't put his finger on just where the resemblance lay.
"Your grandfather's wife," said Tachibana, "what was her name?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"No. Neither my grandfather nor my parents ever seemed to want to talk about her. They would only say that she was dead. They never told me her name or where she came from."
"Hmm, that's strange, isn't it?" said Tachibana, guessing that Yuko's grandmother must have been Taki. It would hardly have been surprising if Keijiro's son had married Taki when he came back from the war. That would mean that Yuko's mother was their daughter. The idea of transmigration of souls was not inconceivable to him. What if Taki's soul had found its way into Yuko's body, and fate had brought her before him again?
Unable to get enough of looking at her, he suddenly realized that her white blouse and maroon skirt reminded him of a shrine maiden's dancing costume. That must have been what had given him such a shock when he first saw her in the entryway.
"Do you like to wear clothes like that?" he asked her.
"Yes, I do. Actually, I'd rather wear a skirt that was a little brighter red, but my friend says it would look too gaudy."
Taki had always looked good in her shrine maiden's costume and always been eager to put it on. When she reached puberty and had to stop dancing at the shrine, she had cried constantly. She had lived to put on that costume and dance. She once told Tachibana that while she was living with his family, she would often put it on in the privacy of her room. And while he was living with her family, she had worn it nearly all the time.
While wearing it, however, she had sometimes been seized by spells of seemingly supernatural possession. In the middle of some ordinary act, she would suddenly fall silent and still, her eyes fixed on a particular spot. Then she would begin to dance, the sleeves of her Shinto robe fluttering as she chanted something that sounded like a prophecy. After a short time she would come to herself again with a shy smile and go back to whatever she had just been doing.
The first time Tachibana had seen such a spell, he thought she was just having some fun with him, but time and again, her prophecies had seemed to come true— at least in so far as their vague language could be construed as a prediction of some occurrence. For instance, once she chanted something about the "trees flowing," and the next day torrential rains caused a landslide that resulted in several deaths. To be sure, the trees had flowed, but disparaging comments were heard to the effect that she should have chanted about the "mountain collapsing."
Nevertheless, the majority of the villagers believed in her prophecies, and even Tachibana had not taken her spells as evidence of insanity. He thought of them vaguely as some kind of possession. Student of literature that he was, he had not felt competent to comment scientifically on the existence of foreknowledge, but he believed at least that she was gifted with some extraordinary powers.
Taki's parents had been very worried about what would become of her, their only daughter, and what worried them most seemed to be just those extraordinary powers. Whenever she had one of her spells, they would voice their worries to the "young master" of the Tachibana family, who must have been their one great hope. At such times, he would assure them that they need not worry, because he was going to see to Taki's happiness. He was trying to tell them that he intended to marry her. He was never sure whether they had understood that or not, but his words had seemed to reassure them.
Tachibana had deeply loved Taki. From the first time he saw her in his first year of junior high school, he had felt a conviction that she was his destiny, and the longer he knew her, the stronger that conviction had become. Taki had seemed even more sure of that destiny than he. She had felt perfectly secure as long as he was right there, but when he was not, she would sometimes come looking for him with great fear in her eyes, and finding him, would cling to his arm so hard that
it hurt.
Looking back, Tachibana suspected she must have had a premonition of tragedy, both their own personal tragedy and their country's plunge toward destruction in the war, for her spells ceased to be accompanied by joyous dancing and became expressions of dark fear. Time and again he saw her wearing a look of despair. Finally, the spells ceased altogether, leaving him with no key to what she saw. He had not grasped the meaning of her fears until they were realized. Even when her parents died, she had not grieved so much as he might have expected. Not until later had he realized this was not from any lack of feeling, but rather because she had seen an even greater tragedy looming beyond.
"Professor?" Yuko's voice, slightly tinged with reproach, brought him back to the present. He knew he had not been dozing, but he did have a sensation that he had forgotten where he was, if only for a short time. He had not even noticed that she had stood up.
"Uh, I guess I'd better be going," she said, bowing sadly.
"No, please don't go yet," said Tachibana hastily. "I'd like to hear more. Won't you please stay awhile?"
"I don't mind, but you..."
"No, no, I was just thinking about something. Anyway, please, sit down."
Reassured, she sat down again. At the moment, she looked like any other naive freshman, but remembering how she had just handled Fusae Nakayama, Tachibana knew he had better be careful.
"May I ask your mother's name?" he said.
"It's Katsura. The name was taken from the first character of my great-grandfather's name."
"Katsura? That's a nice name." But there was nothing in it to connect it with Taki. "What does your father do?"
"He runs a laundry and dry-cleaning chain."
This was getting really far away from what he had expected. "What do you do during your summer vacations?"
"I go back to the country and work. In summer there's piles of laundry from the villas and tourist homes and so on, and the company is always shorthanded. I get my own route this summer. I got my driver's license during the spring vacation just so I could do it. They promised me I could have Togakushi, the Iizuna Plateau, and Kinasa. That's where the study circle is."
"What study circle?"
"The one that studies the folk tales and legends of Togakushi. I've been a member since high school."
"Oh, I see. You must be anxious to get back there, then."
"Oh yes, I'm really looking forward to it. Are you going anywhere for the summer, Professor?"
"No, I guess I'm just going to laze around my study all summer."
"Then why don't you come visit Togakushi? I'll show you around in my car."
"Togakushi?"
"It's a great place, really."
"Oh, yes, I imagine it is.... Togakushi..." Something made him stop before telling her that he had just been there.
The investigation was stuck. The police had not been able to find a shred of information suggesting a common motive for the two cases involving three murder victims.
Section Two was continuing its search for a political or financial motive, on the assumption that the murders could have arisen out of some big conflict of interests with a gigantic organization. Kisuke Takeda had at one time been involved in a battle with a group with powerful capital interests led by an important politician from Niigata, for acquisition of property rights to land along the dry bed of the Shinano River. Takeda had yielded, at least on the surface, but rumor had it that he had come out of the deal quite a bit richer.
"It looks like Section Two is working on a pretty good bet for the motive, don't you think?" said Miyazaki, apt to become fainthearted in such situations. When his own section was stymied, the grass always looked greener to him elsewhere.
"Why don't we just let them work on it?" said Take-mura. "If they solve the case, it will take a big load off of us. That would be a godsend."
"Godsend! It would be a disgrace! Don't forget, this business started with the governor himself. The honor of Section One is hanging on it!"
"Yes, I know."
"Then, just this once, why don't you try looking for information along the same lines? You know, cooperation is the whole basis of the police organization."
"You don't need to tell me that, but I'd be wasting my time."
"I don't think so."
"Well I would. I've been trying to tell you that this case has got nothing to do with politics or finance or business deals. It smacks of some deep personal grudge. And anyway, if you want to treat it as political or financial, then I'd appreciate it if you'd take me off of it, because I'm not suited for that sort of thing."
"Now, now, no need to talk like that! I never said you were wrong. I'm just trying to play it safe. But if you feel that strongly about it, I won't force anything on you," said Miyazaki, beating a hasty retreat. As Takemura was leaving, though, he added, "But why don't you just drop in and see what Section Two is doing?"
"Okay," said Takemura, forcing a smile.
Superintendent Fukami, the head of Section Two, was of the so-called elite career class. Two years younger than Takemura, he already outranked him, and would probably receive another promotion after the next test.
Sections One and Two were both in the same department, but their functions differed greatly. Drawing an analogy to a business enterprise, one could say that Section One consisted of blue-collar workers, and Section Two of white. Or, another way to regard their relationship would be as that of sales department to general affairs department.
It is the doings of Section One that make the stuff of TV police dramas, to whose viewers those showy and powerful detectives—the center of action—are the stars of the force. To members of Section Two, though, those same detectives are mere physical laborers, and their own elaborate work is much higher class. They would not, of course, come right out and say it, but they think of their Section One counterparts as mere thief-catchers.
Doing as Miyazaki asked, Takemura dropped in at Section Two. But the inspector in charge of the case was nowhere around, and Fukami himself quickly caught sight of him instead.
"Ye-e-es?" Fukami had a habit of putting a peculiar, provoking, upward intonation on the word.
"Er, I was wondering if there've been any new developments?" said Takemura.
"New developments?" Fukami looked away. "No, I don't think so. But then, that case is not really quite in our line here. We prefer to leave murders to you."
"But I'm afraid we're mere novices when it comes to political and financial circles, so if you won't teach us a few things..." Takemura was trying to be diplomatic. The man might prove unexpectedly useful.
Fukami laughed. "Oh, I don't believe you're novices, but if there's something in particular you want to know, go ahead and ask."
Sure enough, the approach had worked. Though Fukami might be steeped in scholarly learning, in affairs of the world, it was he who was the novice.
"Could there be anyone who might have been an enemy of both Takeda and Ishihara?" asked Takemura, putting out a feeler.
"Probably so, since they were connected both in their work and in their financing. There must have been some deals where Ishihara acted as a front for Takeda, which means that if we could just learn how the deals worked, and find out what enemies Ishihara might have made in the course of them, we could make an awfully good guess that the same people must have been enemies of Takeda as well. Of course, whether or not there would have been enmity enough for murder would be another question."
"Do you think there could have been?"
"I can't imagine how, but I wouldn't want to rule out the possibility completely."
"Then you mean at least that no such person or organization has shown up so far in your investigation?"
"Well, er, at this point we, uh..."
"To go as far as murder, it would have to be a deal or a negotiation on quite a large scale, or at least something that the participants would have believed to have that kind of potential. Anything like that?"
"Yes, it would
have to be that, certainly."
"Then you haven't come up with anything like that, right? In other words, we can assume that these murders did not arise out of any kind of business deal, can't we?"
"What?" Fukami glared at Takemura from behind his glasses.
"If your excellent staff here in Section Two has been working on it all this time and hasn't come up with anything by now, then I think we can be sure that nothing on a big enough scale exists."
"That will do, Takemura!" The young section head took a quick glance around the room. Takemura had not been trying to keep his voice down, but there was nobody right near them, and the rest of the room was abuzz with people on the phone and such, so there was really no danger of being overheard.
"Let's go into the next room," said Fukami, getting up and leading Takemura into the adjoining reception room. "That wasn't very smart. I can't have you saying things that would damage morale."
"I'm terribly sorry. I'm afraid I didn't realize what I was doing."
Fukami snorted, then grinned. "But you have hit the nail right on the head. To tell you the truth, I've got the same feeling. It doesn't look as though these murders are a job for Section Two."
Takemura was astounded—and deeply impressed. It was not in the book of elite officialdom to change direction so easily just because it was a waste of time to continue in the same direction. But here was someone different. He had seen what he ought to see, and he knew how the organization was supposed to work.
"Which is why we're going to get ourselves out of the investigation," continued Fukami. "But until we get through the necessary procedures, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this conversation off the record."
"Yes, of course. I'm embarrassed to have been so terribly presumptuous."
"Forget it. I see you really are the great detective they say you are. It's a shame your talents are wasted in Section One," said Fukami with a grin. Takemura decided he was going to like this greenhorn superintendent.
* * *
At any rate, Fukami's seal of approval had given Takemura more confidence in his own thinking, and that was an unexpected harvest. Now he could ignore any static and devote himself entirely to the investigation as he thought it should be conducted.