Chapter 6 The Door
Wataru’s mouth gaped. For a moment he could do nothing but stand there, blinking in disbelief.
The figure stood on the landing between the third and fourth floors, so close to the edge that one step farther would have sent it tumbling down. Its black silhouette was thin and tall, and…
That’s a hood!
It wore a long-hemmed robe and a hood covering its head. Its left hand lay on the landing banister. In its right hand was a staff, at least six feet long, with a round tip that sparkled and shone.
A wizard.
There were always two wizards in the Eldritch Stone Saga series—one on the player’s side and another on the enemy’s side. In Saga I the ally wizard was a difficult and grumpy old man. But at the same time, he was a magus of much power who had once been the master of the enemy wizard.
In contrast, the ally wizard in Saga II was a beautiful young woman, the doppelgänger of the enemy wizard. The two rivals remained eternally young because of a particularly devastating spell: twisting the aging process to suit her own purpose, the evil wizard had released a horrible plague on the innocent citizens of the Kingdom of Toma. The beautiful ally wizard joined the hero of the story in an effort to stop the plague, despite knowing that victory would cause her to immediately start aging—turning her into an old hag.
According to the literature, Saga III’s wizard was once again an old man. Afflicted by an ancient curse, he asked to join the hero’s party so that he might find a cure for it. In the preview screenshots and artwork he looked much kinder than the wizard in Saga I, less like dark magus and more like Santa Claus.
Though each of the wizards was very different, they always had two things in common: a long, hooded robe and a staff in one hand. This held true no matter what else they wore. For example, the beautiful wizard in Saga II wore a miniskirt so short you’d expect her underwear to show, but her longhooded robe was so long that it dragged on the ground. It was like a mandatory uniform.
And now, in the gloomy interior of a haunted building, standing on the landing of a half-wrought staircase that hung in midair, was someone dressed just like a wizard. What else could it be? The only problem, of course, was that wizards didn’t really exist.
“Uh…hey!” Wataru blurted. “Hey, you!”
The figure on the landing seemed to turn. The angle of its staff changed a little.
“What are you doing up there?”
Silence fell. Wataru could feel the hooded figure’s gaze upon him in the darkness. “Um, er…” He took a half-step forward. “I don’t think it’s very safe up there.”
No answer. The figure didn’t move. An ominous feeling crept over Wataru, enveloping him like steam. What if it weren’t a wizard after all, but someone who was a little wrong in the head—someone a little strange? Maybe he had just wandered in here? Maybe I’m standing in a dark, abandoned building with a madman, and I’ve just announced my presence for all to hear. Or maybe it was just some nice old person from the neighborhood who enjoyed dressing up like a wizard.
The figure in the hood took a step forward. Wataru broke out in a cold sweat. An old man who likes to dress up like a wizard. Right, Wataru. Good thinking.
Wataru crouched and scrabbled at the plastic sheet to pull it back up, fumbling in his haste, when a man’s voice thundered in the air above him.
“Fear not, lad!”
Wataru froze. For several seconds, he couldn’t move a muscle. Then, slowly, fearfully he looked back up. The hooded figure remained where he had been before. The staff moved, the sphere at its tip shining in the reflected light of the streetlights that peeked in between the tarps. The voice spoke again, this time in a much gentler tone. “Where did you come from?”
It was asking him a question. The heavy tarp still clutched in both hands, Wataru’s mouth flapped open. Nothing came out but silence.
He’s speaking to me in Japanese!
“What’s your name?” the voice asked. It was definitely an old man’s voice, with a hint of gruffness, making it sound like his grandfather in Odawara, the one who smoked.
“Well? Have you no answer?”
The figure above him took another half-step. Wataru’s teeth began to clatter. “Um…um…um…”
“Ah, so your name is ‘Um,’ is it, lad?”
No, no! Wataru shook his head, but his voice was trapped somewhere deep in his throat.
“Tell me, Um, just what is it that you are doing here?”
Wataru slowly raised his eyes to see the hooded figure leaning against the handrail of the third-floor landing. He was looking down at him, his staff held over one shoulder.
Oddly enough, he seemed somehow…friendly.
“Perhaps you heard of this place from your friends?” the figure continued, tapping his staff upon his right shoulder as he spoke. “It seems there’s been a lot of talk about this place of late.”
His words slowly percolated through Wataru’s confused and agitated mind. Friends. Heard about it from friends. There’s been talk.
“Umm…” Wataru stuttered. The figure cut him off, laughing.
“This isn’t the audience chamber of King Midas, young Um, you need not announce your name each time you speak!”
“Umm…that’s not what I meant to say.” Just finally being able to speak one coherent word did the trick. The curse was lifted. “My name isn’t Um, it’s Wataru.”
“Wataru?” The figure seemed to be cocking his head. His hood slid to one side. “Is that so? Hrm…similar.”
Huh? Wataru thought. “Similar to who?”
“No one,” the hooded figure immediately replied, “at least, no friend of yours.”
The figure shifted the staff to his other shoulder and leaned even more deeply onto the banister. He seemed completely at ease. It wouldn’t have surprised Wataru in the least to see him pull out a pipe from his breast pocket and take a leisurely puff.
“And so, Wataru, just why are you here?”
“Well, weren’t you…did you look out from behind this tarp just now?”
“Indeed, I did.”
“Well, I saw your hand from outside, so I came in to find out who it was.”
“I see,” the figure said casually. “And why were you here?”
“Like I said, I saw your hand, and…”
A hand slid from the robe’s sleeve. The figure raised one finger, and waved it back and forth in an admonishing gesture. “Wataru, that is not what I asked. Now listen carefully. Why were you here?”
Wataru wasn’t sure how to respond. “I told you…”
“Perhaps you just happened to be taking a walk by this building? Rather late for someone your age to be out, don’t you think?”
Wataru finally understood. “I came here because…I wanted to meet someone.”
“You wanted to meet someone,” the hooded figure repeated in a sing-song voice. “And just where might this someone be?”
It was a hard question to answer, even under normal circumstances, which these were certainly not. How could he begin to explain someone like Kaori Daimatsu?
“Not here, it looks like.”
“Not here, you say!”
“No. But we’ve met here before, so I…”
“Met here, before?”
“I know it sounds strange, but I really…”
The hooded figure cut him off again. “And just what kind of person might this someone be?”
“A…a girl. She’s a girl.”
“A girl, indeed!” the hooded figure sang again, suddenly straightening his back and planting his staff on the landing with a clang, making Wataru start. “It’s time for me to be off.”
“Uh…wait, I…”
“You seem to be in error, incidentally.”
“Me? What do you mean?”
“You should not have come here.”
“But…”
“Nor should you have met me. In fact, you didn’t.”
“Huh? But we’re talking…”
“Never mind that, I’ll roll back time for you. You were not here. You don’t remember anything.”
“Hey, w-wait!”
But the hooded figure refused to wait, or heed his pleas. Staff held in one hand, he raised his free hand to the sky. Once again, his thunderous voice filled the space inside the building.
“Chronos, great God of Time! Your faithful servant, emissary of wind, cloud and rainbow, stands in supplication!”
He’s casting a spell! Wataru was riveted in place.
“By your will, let time be stopped, be turned back, be purified by the bubbling waters of the Fountain of Forgetfulness!”
The wizard jabbed his staff toward the heavens. “Dan dalam ekono kros! Hie!”
For a moment, Wataru’s sight was filled with countless silver specks of light, so bright he was forced to blink and then…
“Huh?” He was sitting on the ground, just inside the haunted building’s tarps. He scrambled to his feet and looked up, but the third-floor landing was empty. No wizards, no old men playing dress-up.
What was all that?
He blinked.
All that? Wait…I remember everything!
The old man had promised to turn back time, to erase his memories of the encounter, but he remembered it all, down to the last detail. Dizzy, Wataru held one hand up to his forehead. I must have a fever. Or I was dreaming. Maybe I should pinch my cheek. Here I go. Ouch! Yep, that hurt.
Wataru lifted the edge of the tarp and went back outside. He looked at his watch in the glow of the streetlights. It must be late. His mother would be furious. What would he tell…
His breath stopped. He looked at the digital display on his watch again and blinked.
08:19:32
No way. Even if it had been a dream, some kind of strange momentary hallucination, just going under that tarp and coming back out would have taken at least thirty seconds, if not a minute.
No time had passed.
I’ll just roll back time for you, the man had said. It was like magic. Wataru tried his best to recall the spell. Something about Chronos, the great god of time? And his emissary…what was it? Something about wind and stuff. Rainbows, maybe. And something like “ramu” and “ekono” at the end…I should have paid more attention!
It hadn’t been a dream, or a hallucination. He hadn’t seen an old man who likes dressing up in funny costumes. He had seen an honest-to-goodness, genuine wizard.
What the heck is a wizard doing in an abandoned building in a Tokyo suburb?
Wataru jumped up and dove under the sheet once again. His eyes had adjusted to the glare of the streetlights, making the darkness inside the haunted building seem much thicker than before. Nonetheless, it was clear that there was nobody present except Wataru—not on the landing, not behind the steel beams, not under the stairs.
“Well, that sounds kinda interesting, I guess, but it’s a bit of a departure for the series, don’t you think?” Katchan shifted his yellow umbrella from his right shoulder to his left. A light rain was falling.
“Departure?” asked Wataru.
“From the first two games. Setting it in modern Japan seems kinda lame, if you ask me. And if it’s going to start out like that, we probably won’t get to ride in that flying boat on the posters until, like, the third disc.”
Wataru sighed. “You think I’m talking about Saga III.”
Katchan’s eyes widened. “You weren’t?”
The two were in the courtyard behind school after classes let out, at the top of the concrete stairs just outside the library exit. It had been drizzling since morning, and didn’t show any signs of letting up. A large low-pressure front was coming, said the weather report. Chance of heavy rains in western Japan.
And wizards.
Wataru had told Katchan everything: the girl’s voice in his room that came from nowhere and the wizard in the haunted building who cast a spell on him. He had been bursting to tell someone, and now it came out in a flood of meticulous, vivid detail. And Katchan thought that he was talking about a game.
What could he expect? Would he have believed Katchan if it were him telling the story? Invisible girls? Old wizards? All the stuff of fairy tales and video games. He could insist it was all real as much as he liked, and he would still have no way to prove it.
Wataru felt exhausted, and his thoughts were muddled. He had hardly slept the night before, and he worried he might have caught a cold running around in the haunted building. He sat vacantly watching the rain come down.
“Hey!” Katchan’s urgent whisper snapped Wataru out of his sleepy reverie. “Look! Over there!”
Katchan was tugging on Wataru’s elbow and pointing toward the library. Through the large glass window they could see part of a single shelf. Somebody was standing in front of it. The figure moved. The window was higher up than they were, so even standing on tiptoe and craning their necks they could see the figure only from the shoulders up. Still, Wataru knew in an instant who it was.
“Mitsuru!”
He was wearing a white, short-sleeved polo shirt—unusual for a guy who always stalked the hallways at school dressed in black.
“It’s not just Mitsuru,” Katchan said, ducking down behind his umbrella so he wouldn’t be seen. “Kenji Ishioka’s in there too!”
Mitsuru stopped in front of the bookshelf, grabbed a book, and opened it. Kenji moved in, trying to see what the book was, but the other boy turned so he couldn’t read it. As they watched, two of Kenji’s sixth-grade flunkies came up from behind him, and the three boys surrounded Mitsuru.
Wataru was surprised. Sure, they all went to the same school, but for some reason, he never imagined seeing Mitsuru and Kenji together.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Wataru whispered, edging closer to the window.
Mitsuru didn’t look frightened in the least. From his expression, it seemed he hadn’t even noticed Kenji and his crew. His gaze was fixed on an opened page of the book, the angle of his head making the prominent line of his nose stand out even more than usual. Perfectly straight bangs fell down in front of his eyes. For a girl, Mitsuru’s hair would have been on the short side, but it was long for a boy. He could get away with that style for now, but not when he entered junior high, where conformity was the rule. Still, it looked good on him, and several of the boys at school had unadvisedly tried to imitate the look.
Maybe Kenji doesn’t like his hairdo?
Kenji was extremely sensitive to any perceived attempt to steal his spotlight. Perhaps this had been Mitsuru’s inadvertent crime.
Just then, Kenji stuck out his fist, hitting Mitsuru on the shoulder, hard. Mitsuru staggered and fell from view.
“Uh-oh, this could be bad,” Katchan whispered excitedly. “Isn’t the librarian here today?”
Apparently not. Kenji and his gang would never make a mistake like that. They were meticulous when it came harassing younger students.
“You think we should go get somebody?”
They heard a shrill laugh from inside, probably one of Kenji’s goons.
“We gotta go to the office!”
Katchan started to rise, but Wataru yanked on his sleeve. “Shhh! Hang on a second.”
Mitsuru came back into view. This time, he was facing Kenji straight on. Kenji had his back to the window, so they were able to clearly see Mitsuru’s expression. He was a little shorter than his adversary, but that didn’t seem to bother him at all.
Kenji took a step back. The loud, checkered shirt he wore filled up half of the window. Wataru folded his umbrella and snuck right up beneath the eaves.
Mitsuru’s lips were moving, but his words were barely audible through the glass. The only thing Wataru caught was, “Just who do you think I am?”
He craned his neck out a little farther, and his eyes met Mitsuru’s through the glass. Uh-oh! He quickly jerked his head back and leaned hard against the wall below the window. Mitsuru had seen him for sure, and Kenji and his goons wouldn’t have missed the look in his eyes. This was bad to the tenth power.
He stood there, pressed against the wall, with the rain falling onto his face and wetting his hair. Nothing happened. Katchan was standing on the top exit step with his eyes opened wide. He was about to say something, but Wataru held a finger up to his lips. Wataru counted to ten, then slowly moved sideways with his back against the wall until he made it to where Katchan was standing.
“You okay?” Katchan whispered.
“They saw me,” Wataru whispered back. “Let’s get inside. It’s dangerous out here.” He picked up his soaked umbrella. Katchan folded his and gave it a shake, spraying droplets of water everywhere.
Suddenly, the library window opened and Mitsuru stuck his head out. He didn’t say a word. He just looked straight into Wataru’s eyes. It was like he was scanning him, reading some hidden information that only he could see.
Several seconds passed before Mitsuru smiled, pulled back into the library, and shut the window.
“Wh-wh-wha…” Katchan stuttered. “What was that all about?”
Wataru clutched the handle of his umbrella. His hands were shaking. He was frightened, and terrified of Mitsuru. It took him a few moments to compose himself, after which they headed into the library, despite Katchan’s protests. It was too late. There was no sign of Mitsuru or Kenji and his goons. A few girls were studying quietly in the reading room.
“What do you think they were talking about?” Wataru muttered, half to himself.
“Maybe they were talking about the ghost in that photo,” Katchan replied.
Wataru spun around so fast that he startled Katchan into jumping a few feet back. “What photo? The one he took at Mihashi Shrine?”
“That’s the one.”
“Why would Kenji care about something like that?”
“Hadn’t you heard? Oh, right, you’ve been too busy daydreaming about summer vacation.”
Katchan told him how Kenji wanted the photograph Mitsuru had taken, and had been pestering him about it. “Ishioka wants to take it to the TV station so he can get on that show.”
So that’s why he wants Mitsuru’s photograph so badly.
“Pretty lame, huh? It’s classic Kenji Ishioka, though.”
It was lame. Wataru couldn’t understand why someone would want to be on TV so badly that he would try to use somebody else’s story like that.
“Why doesn’t he just give him the picture?” Wataru said, disgusted. “Better than getting picked on.” He recalled his run-in with Mitsuru at the Mihashi Shrine. The memory was so vivid that, like a fresh scab, he was sure it would start to bleed if he picked at it. He shuddered, recalling the look of sheer contempt Mitsuru had given him. “He doesn’t believe the picture’s real, anyway.”
Wataru was getting angry again. Katchan gave him a perplexed look. Finally, he scratched the side of his head and muttered, “Well, why don’t you tell him to do that? You’re with him at cram school, aren’t you?”
“I’m not with him!”
Katchan blinked. “What’s your problem?”
“You just won’t shut up. Why do I always have to explain everything to you? Not like you even understand. Are you stupid or something?”
Wataru knew that it was wrong to take his frustrations out on Katchan like that, but he didn’t feel like apologizing. He started off down the hallway. His friend hesitantly started to follow, but Wataru just walked faster.
“You going home?” Katchan shouted after him. “See ya!”
Wataru continued to walk. By the time he was off campus and well on his way home he calmed down enough to realize how mean and selfish he had been. Oh well, he couldn’t do anything about it now. All he could do was plod home alone.
That evening Uncle Lou called just as he was finishing dinner. Kuniko, who was clearing the dishes from the table, flinched when the phone rang and glared at it over her shoulder. When Wataru made a move to pick up the phone, she stopped him.
“That’s okay. I’ll get it.” She tentatively lifted the receiver, but as soon as she heard who it was, her icy expression thawed. “Wataru, your uncle wants to speak with you.”
Wataru’s conscience had been bothering him ever since the scene at the library. His head was spinning with thoughts about how he should apologize to Katchan tomorrow, and what he would say, and whether Katchan would be too mad to forgive him. Dinner had tasted like paste in his mouth. He wished there was someone else he could talk to about Mitsuru and everything else. When the phone rang, he knew his prayers had been answered. Uncle Lou!
“Hello? Wataru speaking.”
“Hey!” said his uncle. “Have you had your dinner? What did you have? Hamburgers? Spaghetti? Some of your ma’s meat’n’cabbage rolls? Wow, now I’m getting hungry.”
Phone calls from Uncle Lou always started this way. Hamburgers, spaghetti, and cabbage rolls—in tomato sauce, not cream—were his favorite foods.
“Hey, Uncle Lou…” Wataru began, but then felt his throat start to tighten, and tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. That was a surprise. He didn’t realize he was so worked up about things. “I…”
“Actually,” his uncle went on, oblivious to Wataru’s predicament, “to tell you the truth, I’m calling because I wanted your advice about something.”
Another surprise.
“An old friend of mine got married—he’s living out there by you now. Here’s the deal: his kid was recently in an accident and is in the hospital.” His uncle explained that the boy—a local fourth-grader—was going to make a full recovery, but he had broken his right thighbone, and so would have to be in the hospital for quite some time. “Anyway, I’m going to go visit him in the hospital, but I wasn’t sure what I should bring him as a get-well present. A book? Or a game, maybe? I couldn’t come up with anything. But I was thinking, since you’re his age you might have a few ideas.”
Uncle Lou explained that he had several things to attend to, and so wouldn’t be arriving until Friday morning, but he’d buy the gift when he got to Tokyo. “Hard to find anything out here in the boondocks that a city kid would care for.”
“Are you going to be staying with us?” asked Wataru. “If you’re going to the hospital on Saturday, then you’ll be spending the night in Tokyo, right? You should come!”
Wataru had his back to the kitchen, so he wasn’t able to see the sour face his mother made as she listened to their exchange. She knew Wataru loved his uncle, but she couldn’t stand her brother-in-law for his crude ways and lack of manners. Of course, she would never say such a thing out loud.
Meanwhile, Satoru Mitani was turning down the invitation. “No, I’ve got a lot to do, and I’d be up too late to go visiting,” he lied. He was actually far more sensitive to other people’s feelings than Kuniko gave him credit for, and he knew exactly where he stood with his brother’s wife. “Maybe next time.”
“You always say that, but you haven’t stayed with us for so long!” Wataru’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. “When I was little you used to always stay with us when you came to Tokyo!”
He could hear his uncle laugh on the other end of the line. “Hah! You’re still little! Or have you grown big like Godzilla since the last time I saw you? That must be why we’ve been having so many earthquakes here in Chiba. It’s from you stomping around, making the ground shake all the way out here! Whoa, I just felt another one!”
Wataru giggled. Two years ago, his uncle had taken him to see the latest Godzilla movie—the one made in Hollywood and not in Japan. From the very beginning, his uncle groused about how the giant, funny-looking U.S. lizard wasn’t the real thing. Still, they both loved the scene where Godzilla had come into the city, his pounding footsteps shaking the ground, sending taxis and cars and pedestrians bouncing through the air. They had met up with Wataru’s parents for dinner after the show, and the two of them kept acting out that scene, bouncing in their seats on the train, jumping suddenly as they walked, and—much to Kuniko’s dismay—leaping from their chairs in the restaurant.
Wataru wanted to see his uncle. He needed to talk to someone about how the girls made fun of him in class, and how he snuck out of the house late one night. He wanted to talk about how he used up the film in the disposable camera and how Mitsuru was rude to him. Uncle Lou wouldn’t laugh at him or look disgusted. He wouldn’t lecture him either.
“Well, can I go shopping with you?” Wataru asked. “I only have five hours of school and then I’m free. We could go to a department store, or Toys ‘R’ Us, or anywhere!”
His uncle paused a moment. “Well…that sounds like a good idea.”
“Lemme come, please?”
“Okay, ask your mother if you can go shopping with me for a couple of hours, and be sure to tell her I’ll have you home in time for dinner.”
Wataru rejoiced. I’ll have plenty of time to talk with him about everything! Covering the phone’s mouthpiece with his hand, he spun around. “Mom! Can I…”
Kuniko, who had been sitting at the table drinking a cup of tea, answered before he even finished asking. “No.”
“Why not? He’s coming on Friday! I don’t have to go to cram school on that day!”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Your uncle is coming to Tokyo on business. You’ll just get in his way.”
“But I’m going to help him! He’s coming to buy a present for…”
Kuniko placed her mug on the table and let out a sigh. Her face darkened further, until she reminded Wataru of the wicked old witch he had seen once in a television movie. “No means no, Wataru. Give me the phone.”
“No, it’s okay, Wataru. You can go out with your uncle.” It was his father. Startled, both Wataru and Kuniko turned to see Akira standing at the entrance to the living room, briefcase in hand. He was still wearing his suit, and his rimless eyeglasses had slid partway down his nose. He was looking straight at Wataru.
“You haven’t seen your uncle in a while.” He handed his briefcase to Kuniko, who had approached him with a surprised look on her face, and continued, “It’ll be a good chance for you to talk with him about what kind of work you’ll be doing in Chiba this summer. Here, let me talk to him.”
Akira took the receiver from Wataru’s hand. “Hey, Satoru, how’ve you been? Mom doing okay? Yeah, everyone here is well. So, about getting together with Wataru…”
The cavalry had arrived in the nick of time. Wataru’s eyes shone. He could feel his body emitting a happy glow to a radius of at least a yard. Godzilla wasn’t coming, but he bounced about the room all the same.
“Hush, Wataru,” Kuniko scowled, still clutching Akira’s briefcase. “You’re father’s still on the phone.”
You’re upset because you just got KO’d, Wataru thought, but he took great pains not to let his unbridled joy show on his face.
Akira finished talking and handed the phone back to Wataru. “Why don’t you go ahead and have dinner with your uncle too. That way you won’t have to rush your shopping.”
“Thanks!” Wataru jumped up and quickly worked out the details with Uncle Lou, who promised to come pick him up at their apartment. Akira confirmed the schedule, then hung up the phone and went to change clothes. When he came back to the table, Kuniko was laying out dishes for supper. Wataru was so happy that he wanted to dance around the room, but one look at his mother’s scowl told him that restraint was the wise course of action.
“Thanks, Dad!”
“Don’t be a bother to your uncle, now,” Akira said, opening the evening paper.
“I won’t! I promise!”
“You’re home early tonight, aren’t you?” Kuniko inquired as she shuttled back and forth between the table and the refrigerator. She was angry and ignored Wataru. “If we’d known you’d be home so early, we’d have waited to have dinner with you.”
“My meeting was cancelled.”
“Beer?”
“No thanks.”
Just as Kuniko avoided looking at Wataru, so did Akira avoid Kuniko, keeping his eyes glued to his newspaper as he spoke. Wataru retreated to his room, mumbling something about having to do homework.
Wataru sat quietly at his desk with his homework spread out in front of him, but there was no way he could immediately shift into work mode. He was too busy imagining how his uncle would react when Wataru brought him up to speed on recent events. I met a wizard, Uncle Lou! He cast a spell on me to turn back time! It’s all true!
Finally reining in his enthusiasm, he began to tackle his arithmetic and writing homework. When he got up to go to the bathroom, he found his parents sitting on the living room sofa, drinking coffee. Kuniko told him to take his bath.
“Just two more pages.”
When he came back, Kuniko was talking about something. Wataru could sense at a glance that the room was still under martial law, so he pretended not to listen and headed back to his own room. He had caught a snippet of the conversation: apparently, someone had again called and hung up several times that day. Ah, so that’s why Mom looked so nervous when Uncle Lou called. It also explained her unusually foul mood today. Wataru sighed.
By the time he crawled into bed, though, Wataru’s mood had picked right back up.
“What’s it been, six months since I saw you at New Year’s?” Uncle Lou said, grinning as he placed a large hand on Wataru’s head. “You sure sprung up! In another six months you’ll be up to my shoulder!”
“I’m not growing that fast,” Wataru laughed. Right now he was only tall enough to come up to the tattooed scar left by a childhood immunization shot on Uncle Lou’s left arm. Wataru knew about his scar from the many days they had spent on the beach in Chiba.
His uncle was a big man, both horizontally and vertically. He had long hair and a beard, and both his arms and legs were covered with thick hair. Today, he was wearing a typically gaudy shirt that made him look like a cartoon bear. If he picked up a banjo and put on a straw hat, no one would be able to tell the difference.
“Sure is hot in Tokyo,” Uncle Lou said, wiping his face with his hand. “Muggy too. That’s the difference between the heat down here in the city and the heat out on the beach. I would’ve given up on shopping if I were trying to do it alone. Sure glad you’re here to help.”
It was almost four o’clock in the afternoon on Friday. Wataru had come home from school two hours before to wait impatiently, fully prepared with a brand-new white shirt on for the occasion. The thing that had been weighing on his mind for the past two days—his fight with Katchan—had been resolved. The following day in school he had gone up to his friend to apologize, and Katchan had looked at him with his big round eyes and said, “What for?” and the matter had been settled. He was ready to go.
“I don’t imagine the rainy season is over yet, but at least today, you’re in luck,” his mother said, moving to the window and looking up at the sky. It had been overcast all morning, but since noon the sun had been shining with a weak light through the hazy clouds.
“At least we won’t have to haul umbrellas around,” Uncle Lou said, beaming as he turned to Wataru. “Ready to go?”
“You bet! Later, Mom.”
“Be good now. Watch after him, Satoru.”
“Aww, he’s always a good kid, aren’t you, Wataru? I’d have to try pretty hard to be half as good as you are.” Uncle Lou cackled as he led the way out. Kuniko saw them off at the door, and apologized for not having been a better hostess. She hadn’t even offered him a cup of coffee, unusual for someone who prided herself on propriety. Now that Wataru thought about it, her expression had been a bit stiff and forced that afternoon. Maybe there were more prank calls.
Uncle Lou had new intelligence about the boy he was going to visit in the hospital. First off, he had learned that he loved anime about robots. Unlike Wataru, he almost never played computer games, as his mother forbade them. The thing he had wanted most was a portable MD player, but someone had already given him that for good grades on his last report card.
Wataru suggested that they go to the Jinbocho district.
“The place with all the bookstores?”
“Yeah, there’s a shop there called Konno Books that specializes in anime stuff. They’ll have something on robot anime for sure.”
“Good thinking. How do you know about the place? You into that stuff too?”
“Not so much, but a friend of mine from cram school is really into it. If you ever need to know anything about anime, just ask him.”
Wataru led the way to the train while listening to his uncle talk about news from Chiba. Apparently, the humidity was up, along with his grandmother’s complaining. That was okay though, because her gripes were always good for a laugh. There was a new arcade near the beach (which Wataru would have to check out during his visit), and a big debate was going on about whether a man fishing on the pier had really seen a sea monster. Finally, the owner of Wataru’s favorite ramen joint had gotten into a fistfight and ended up with ten stitches.
They got off at the station and made their way toward the bookstores, only to discover that the district was so big and there were so many stores that Wataru wasn’t sure if they would ever find the one he had heard about. He didn’t know the exact address.
“We’ll figure it out. Follow me.”
Uncle Lou went into a large bookstore facing the main intersection and began talking to a young employee at the register. She was very helpful, handing him a map of the shopping district and pointing the way to Konno Books for him. The encounter put Uncle Lou in a good mood. “You know,” he said, “if you listen to the news, you’d think the whole world was going to pot. But there’s still plenty of kind folks around, that’s clear.”
This was Wataru’s first time in the booksellers’ district, and it made his head spin. He couldn’t believe that there were so many books in the world. Who could possibly read them all?
“If I spent the rest of my life trying, I still couldn’t read one ten-thousandth of all of the books they sell here,” Wataru said.
“I couldn’t read one one-millionth!” Uncle Lou replied, his body shaking with laughter. “What I want to know is, who’s writing all of them? Whoever it is, their heads must be full of words instead of brains.”
Konno Books was a small, three-story building. Uncle Lou pushed his way through the crowd with Wataru following close by. There were rivers of books flowing over display stands, and mountains of books stacked high to the ceiling. After spending close to an hour, they managed to find three glossy, oversize books that seemed to fit the bill.
“Whew!” said Uncle Lou, “talk about a workout!” Sweat was dripping from his brow.
They spilled out of the crowded store onto the street. Wataru was just about to take a deep breath, when someone slammed into him from behind. Caught off guard, Wataru wobbled and fell to his hands and knees on the pavement. A sharp sting ran up his arms and legs. He tried to get up, but his legs were numb. Helpless, he watched as a grimy sneaker came down on his right hand, stomping it into the asphalt.
“Yeeouch!”
Uncle Lou’s thick arm snaked around Wataru’s chest and lifted him up off the ground. “You okay? Are you hurt?” He was yelling. Numb from the pain in his hand, Wataru managed to nod and slowly stand.
His uncle dashed after a man walking fast in the opposite direction. He grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, revealing a very young man in jeans wearing a gray T-shirt.
“What’s the big idea, knocking down a kid and stomping on his hand? You didn’t even say sorry!”
Even with Uncle Lou’s arms on him, the young man’s expression didn’t change a bit. He looked pale and sickly. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes vacant. They look like the eyes of a dead fish, Wataru thought, clutching his throbbing hand to his chest.
“Hey! Do you even know what you just did?” Uncle Lou was coming to a boil. His face turned beet red, and he grabbed the guy by the neck of his Tshirt. The young man remained coolly silent.
“It’s fine, Uncle Lou, I’m okay,” Wataru called out.
His uncle glanced back at Wataru, and then turned back to his captive. “You trampled that little boy over there and stepped on his hand, and you were just going to walk away like nothing happened? Who do you think you are? What makes you think you can get away with something like that?”
The man’s expression didn’t change. The muscles in his face were completely relaxed, giving him an angry look.
“You’re a grown man! Don’t you know that you’ve got to set an example? Now you go apologize to that boy, and make sure he’s not hurt!”
The man’s mouth finally moved, but from where he was, Wataru couldn’t make out what he was saying. He could see his uncle turn a deeper shade of red, though.
“What was that? Let’s hear you say that again!”
The man complied. “Shut up,” he said, louder this time.
Uncle Lou blinked. “Did you just tell me to shut up?”
“Man, give it a rest, will you?”
Uncle Lou was so surprised his grip loosened. The man wriggled out of his grasp and started to walk away. “What do I care if he gets stepped on, or run over?” he spat over his shoulder. “He shouldn’t be out in traffic.”
Satoru’s mouth fell open. His face went pale. This could be bad. Wataru felt his heart skip a beat. Uncle Lou, Uncle Lou, stay calm!
Just then, Wataru heard a familiar voice. “Your uncle’s in danger! You have to stop him!”
Wataru was so surprised he stopped for a second.
It’s her! Where is she speaking to me from this time?
“Traffic?!” his uncle snarled. “You don’t look like a car to me. And what gives you the right to run down children? You think this road only belongs to you?”
“Well, it sure doesn’t belong to you,” the man said with a sneer. “Out of my face, old man. I don’t got time for country bumpkins like you.”
Uncle Lou’s shoulders rose. He’s going to punch him! What do I do, what do I…
Wataru threw himself to the ground with a shrill cry. “Ouch, ouch, it hurts!”
It worked instantly. His wild bull of an uncle stopped on the verge of charging and spun to face Wataru. “What’s wrong?” Uncle Lou flew to Wataru’s side, and the young man melted into the crowd.
“Hey, that was pretty good!” The girl’s voice sparkled in his head. “That man had a knife on him! Things could have gotten ugly. I have to admit, you’re pretty quick on your feet, aren’t you?”
Wataru sat in a daze, listening to the girl’s voice. His uncle grabbed him and shook him by the shoulders. “Wataru, are you all right? Can you hear me? C’mon, speak to me! Can you see my face? Wataru!”
“Ungh, ugh, argh…” Wataru managed, dizzy from the shaking. “Y-yeah, Uncle Lou, I can hear you fine.”
“You can speak! You’re okay!” His uncle looked to be on the verge of tears.
“I’m f-fine so s-stop sh-sh-shaking me!”
“Oh, sorry! I don’t believe this…here I am supposed to look after you for just a few hours, and I end up letting you get hurt!”
“It’s not bad,” Wataru hurried to say, wiggling his stepped-on fingers. “See? Everything works. No broken bones or anything. I’m feeling a lot better too.”
The demonstration helped to calm Uncle Lou down a little, but his deeply tanned, leathery cheeks still held a touch of red.
“Can you believe that guy?” Uncle Lou said with a long sigh as he helped Wataru upright. “People like him think the world revolves around them. Never a thought for their fellow man, or all the trouble they cause. What gives them the right?”
Wataru silently watched the afternoon shoppers walking by. Some people had glanced over in their direction when it looked like there might be a fight, but now that it was over everyone was busily pretending that nothing had happened and getting on with their day.
The girl hadn’t said anything since praising him for his quick thinking.
“C’mon, let’s go,” Wataru said, tugging on his uncle’s sleeve. “I wanna get away from the crowd.”
His injuries didn’t seem serious enough to go see a doctor, but his hand had swollen a bit.
“I have a first-aid kit with compresses and bandages,” Uncle Lou said “Let’s get you back to the hotel and ice down that hand of yours.”
Uncle Lou took Wataru back to his hotel, a simple place catering to businessmen near the middle of town. It looked pretty cheap from the outside, but the room was surprisingly clean and had twin beds. Wataru recalled the time that he had spent the night in a hotel with his grandparents from Odawara when they took him to Tokyo Disneyland.
“Whoopee!” Wataru shouted, jumping up and down on one of the beds. “Hey, one bed for me and one for you! Can I stay the night?”
“What about school tomorrow?” his uncle scoffed, but his eyes twinkled. “Staying in twin rooms is a little extravagance of mine. Single rooms make me feel like I’m sleeping in a matchbox.”
Uncle Lou had a canvas overnight bag and something that looked like an attaché case. I guess he really did have business in Tokyo.
As his uncle wrapped a compress around his right hand, Wataru asked, “By the way, what did you have to do in Tokyo? Are you done with your work? If you still have something to do, I can wait for you here.”
His uncle was amazingly deft at first aid. He had emergency response training from his many years as a beach lifeguard. He wasn’t one to brag, so not many people knew, but he had saved more lives in his time than he could count on both hands.
“Nope, I’m all finished. Okay, there you go.” Uncle Lou finished wrapping Wataru’s hand. “No crab or steak dinner for you. You’ll only be able to hold one utensil at a time.”
“How about macaroni and cheese! We can just go to a Denny’s or something.”
“You sure are a cheap date, aren’t you?” Uncle Lou said, laughing. “Let’s take a short break, and then we can wander around and see if we can’t find a place that looks good. I think I’ll have myself a beer before we head out.”
Uncle Lou got an orange juice from the refrigerator for Wataru, who propped himself up against the head of the bed and put up his feet. Sitting in a hotel room like this made him feel like they were on a trip—not just a short errand, but a real voyage to someplace far, far away. It was the perfect time to talk about secrets.
“Actually,” Wataru began, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Relating everything that had happened to him recently, and explaining how he had felt about all of it turned out to be no small task. It was about a hundred times more difficult than giving an oral report at school. It helped that his uncle listened intently to every word he said, never interrupting his story—although he did laugh once or twice at the funny bits. Wataru told him everything: the invisible girl with the voice like honey, the wizard in the haunted building, the ghost in the photo at Mihashi Shrine, every event and every detail he could remember.
By the time Wataru had run out of things to say and the energy to say them, his uncle had finished all the beers in the room’s mini-bar. He crushed the last empty can with a flick of his wrist, and stared at it for a time before suddenly asking, “That haunted building, it’s right near where you live, right?”
“Yeah, on the way from our apartment to the school.”
“Well, after we get something to eat, would you mind stopping by there on our way back home?”
This surprised Wataru. “You want to go inside?”
“Sure. Who wouldn’t want to meet a wizard?”
This wasn’t the reaction Wataru had expected. “Do you think that I’m making all of this up?”
“What? Were you?”
“No, of course not!”
“I didn’t think so. Let’s go see it.”
Uncle Lou stood up from the bed. His face was a little red from the beer, but he seemed to be perfectly sober. His tolerance for liquor was pretty high. “I’ve never met a wizard before,” he said, “and I never play video games, ’cept when you come over. But if there’s some strange old man living in that building and giving children a hard time, that bears checking out.”
Wataru mumbled something through his teeth. He wasn’t sure himself what exactly he wanted to say. He was glad his uncle hadn’t laughed at him outright, but this reaction wasn’t exactly what he had hoped for.
“I don’t think he’s giving children a hard time…actually, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one he’s met.”
“Not likely. A haunted building like that is a kid magnet—there’s bound to be others. Didn’t the old man ask if you’d heard about the place from a friend?”
“Oh, yeah,” Wataru admitted. I guess he’s right about that one.
“Well,” his uncle said with some authority, “that old man is probably also the ghost, not to mention whatever it is that showed up in that photograph the pretty-boy psycho transfer student took. I bet that’s why he made fun of you and won’t show the photograph to anyone, and why he won’t give it to that stupid sixth-grader Ishioka.” Uncle Lou’s face lit up like a beacon. “Wait a second, I got an idea!” he shouted, clapping his hands together. “What if that wizard guy is Mitsuru’s grandfather?!”
Wataru didn’t know anything about Mitsuru’s family. He didn’t even know if he had a grandfather or not. But he did know that the spell cast on him was real, and he didn’t find his uncle’s theory very amusing. Uncle Lou was laughing so hard his belly shook.
“Wouldn’t that be funny? It’s well within the realm of possibility. There are people out there that’ll do just about anything to cause a stir.”
It had taken a long time for Wataru to tell his tale, and it was already after six-thirty. Uncle Lou suggested they try to visit the haunted building around the same time of evening that Wataru had seen the wizard. Their course of action decided, they grabbed a quick dinner near the hotel. Wataru had been hoping to feast on macaroni and French fries and a chocolate sundae while regaling his uncle with tales of his recent adventures, but somehow things never seemed to go according to plan.
As he ate, Uncle Lou watched him, observing carefully, as though Wataru was some sort of extremely delicate object—yet one which was clearly flawed and needed attention—and he wasn’t quite sure if he had the necessary tools to handle the job. He told his nephew that he should learn to swim the two-hundred-meter crawl this summer. Plus, he reminded him that work at the beach house would be hard, and that he wouldn’t have time to play any video games, since he would inevitably be tuckered out before the seven o’clock news was over.
He didn’t think Wataru was making it all up, so, in that sense, he believed him. Still, it was clear he considered everything—except the old man—the result of an overactive imagination.
And why would Wataru be seeing these things? Why, because he was always playing video games and never went outside to play. What this boy needs is some good, old-fashioned hard work. It was worse than if he had called him a liar and laughed in his face for telling tall tales.
Things weren’t working out at all in the way that Wataru had hoped. Mechanically, he lifted his spoon and fork to his mouth and chewed on his bitter thoughts. If he doesn’t understand me, no one can.
Uncle Lou was eager to get to the haunted building as soon as they were finished. If they left now, they would get there just in time. Wataru trudged along behind his uncle.
“You sure are glum. What, you frightened? No worries, Uncle Lou’ll be right by yer side!” he said, slapping a big, thick hand against Wataru’s back. Normally it would have cheered Wataru up immediately, but today things were different. This wasn’t the Uncle Lou that Wataru loved, and even worse, Wataru had a creeping feeling that the events of that night would somehow change their relationship forever.
I shouldn’t have told him anything. I should have just kept it all to myself. Serves me right for telling a grown-up.
Uncle Lou bought two flashlights at a convenience store. His back was turned to Wataru as he paid. What would happen if I ran, now, while he’s not looking? Wataru wondered. He didn’t run, of course.
They took a taxi to a spot near the haunted building, an unusual move for his uncle who was normally allergic to wasting money.
He must really want to see the haunted building bad.
Uncle Lou did seem as excited as a little child. “Is this it?” he asked as they reached the unfinished building. He had a look in his eyes like he was the lead actor in a monster movie, or maybe a cop show. This would be the episode in which the hero would be investigating an abandoned building to arrest a perverted old man suspected of doing bad things to little children.
He looked around, making sure that there was nobody around to see them. He then lifted the edge of the nearest tarp. “This where you went in?”
“Yeah, right there.”
“Right,” he replied, handing Wataru a flashlight. “Be careful, now.” Wataru took the flashlight and ducked under the tarp. Inside, Uncle Lou stationed Wataru at the base of the stairs and began scanning the walls with his flashlight. He moved surprisingly smoothly for someone of his bulk, and he didn’t bump into or trip over anything. His face was drawn as he searched the first floor. For once, he wasn’t making any jokes.
“Let’s check out this staircase next,” he said, climbing the stairs slowly, testing each step. He kept his flashlight trained ahead of him as he ascended, carefully watching the treads.
“I’d expect to see more trash around here if someone was using this place as a hideout.” He stopped on the landing between the second and third floors, scratching his head. “I don’t even see any footprints in the dust.”
Wataru shone his flashlight down at his own feet. There was a layer of coarse dust and powdered concrete everywhere: on the newly laid concrete floor, on the patches of exposed earth, and on places covered with plywood. Only the staircase was clean, with just a tiny bit of dust and dirt collected in the corners of each step. They would find no footprints there, for certain.
Wait, wouldn’t a clean staircase mean someone was using it a lot? They might have been cleaning it with a broom, to keep their feet from getting dirty. Maybe it was the “friend” that the wizard mentioned.
Maybe it was…Mitsuru?
“Hey, Wataru, the stairs end here!” Uncle Lou called down from the third-floor landing. “That old man you saw was standing right here, you say?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s kinda scary up here,” he said, holding on to a handrail as he slowly looked around. “Not a good place for children and old folks to be wandering around. They need to be more careful about keeping people out. You should tell that boy Mitsuru that it’s dangerous to play in construction sites.”
“Maybe he doesn’t come here.”
“Of course he does. What about that deal with the ghost photo?”
“Well, I’m not asking him.”
He’d just make fun of me again.
“You should talk to your mother and father about this when you get home. And the neighborhood association should…”
Satoru’s cell phone rang in his breast pocket. He pulled it out and put it to his ear. “Hello? Huh? Oh, hey, Akira. Wait, I can hardly hear you. Hang on a minute.” He nimbly stepped down the stairs with the flashlight in one hand and his cell phone in the other. “Hello? No, I’m getting static here too. What’s that? Can you hear me? Hello?”
Uncle Lou looked around for a place with better reception, eventually giving up and going back out under the tarp.
All these steel beams are probably interfering with the cell phone signal.
Wataru headed toward the front tarp, turning off his flashlight and sticking it into his back pocket. He crouched down to pull up the tarp when he suddenly realized it had gotten much brighter inside the building. He could see the heavy stitches in the tarp in front of him. Still in a crouch, he turned his head to look back up into the building.
Wataru’s jaw dropped. On the third-floor landing, right where his uncle had just been standing—where he had seen the wizard—was…
A shining gate!
The gate had two doors, their upper halves covered in ornate decorations, with sweeping old-fashioned curves.
It’s closed.
The gate was closed tight, outlined by a bright white light around the edges and down the middle seam. Whatever space was behind the gate must be brightly lit. The white light spilled out into the haunted building.
When did that get there?
Wataru stood up shaking. He went to the stairs and began to climb. With each step it seemed that the light leaking in from the door grew brighter. Wataru couldn’t look away, even when he nearly tripped on the narrow steps. Relentlessly, he moved toward the door, as if drawn by some force beyond his control. By the time he neared the third floor landing, he was crawling.
As he got close to the door he could feel the light’s warmth. Wataru began to smile. As he stretched his hand before him, he thought he could hear a sound like falling spring rain.
The light…so pure, so bright, so gentle…
Wataru reached the landing. Now standing, he reached for the door.