site 29: Toko Sumikaze

Thursday, February 25th

The Mumuu editorial department was a little more on edge than usual. The news had said this morning that Dr. Hashigami had been killed, and our department had gotten several calls. Most of them had been from the media. None of the editors even knew what was really going on with the case. After all, I was his editor, and I still couldn’t believe it had happened.

“Sumikaze!” Takafuji, our editor-in-chief, came over to my desk looking angry. “Did you get in touch with Dr. Hashigami’s family yet?”

“No, not yet...” I’d tried calling several times already, after the first time he’d asked.

I’d worked with the professor for almost a year, but I’d actually only met his family a few times. Almost all of my meetings had been with him alone.

“I guess we can’t show up at his house at a time like this, can we?” The editor-in-chief looked like he wasn’t sure what to do.

I remembered that I’d been there a few times before. I actually didn’t really like going. There were... things... in that house. I had a pretty strong sixth sense, and I was sensitive to that stuff, so I could tell. I’d felt a strong presence in that house, one with an extremely rare strength.

But that didn’t matter right now.

“What are we supposed to tell his family, anyway? Are we supposed to ask what to do with the money we hadn’t paid him yet? That’s way too insensitive.”

“Then maybe while we’re at the wake...”

“The wake isn’t happening yet,” I sighed.

“Oh, that’s right! The wake! Maybe we can talk to his wife then. Or his mom.”

“I’m not sure... That might not be the right time, I think.”

He scratched his head. “Fine. At least find out when the wake is, and when you know, send flowers. We can put off all the details until later.”

“Um, sir...” I ran after him before he could get back to his desk, but then I hesitated a moment before I brought it up. “We’re... canceling his column, right?”

“Did you get this month’s draft already?”

“No, not yet...”

“Then we don’t have a choice, do we? It’s not like we can have a ghost writing for our magazine.”

“The thing is, he’d said he wanted to start writing about a new theme. His first draft was already completed, he said.”

The editor-in-chief shrugged. I couldn’t read his expression. “When was this?”

“Last month.” I could’ve gotten the draft then, but it was too late for regrets now.

“His last work, huh? If that’s true, I want to have it.” But before I could agree, he put his hand on my shoulder. “For now, think up another article for us to run.”

“What?! R-Right now?!”

“Right now! Sorry, but do it!” That was all he said before he left the office. There was no chance to argue with him. He was just going to make me do all the work.

“Ascension,” I went back to my seat and sighed. I wasn’t feeling as shocked as I’d thought I would.

Dr. Hashigami had always been very friendly to me during our meetings, even though I was still a newbie editor. So when I’d heard he’d been killed, my whole mind had gone blank. But there’d been much to do after that, and I found myself going about my business as normal. Would I feel sadder if I went to the funeral and saw the body?

Who could’ve killed him, anyway? Did the police have any idea? Why would anyone want to do it?

“I guess there’s no point in thinking about it.” I decided to start by organizing Dr. Hashigami’s drafts. If I was doing something, it would stop me from thinking about things.

My policy was to always keep things clean. In a room full of messy editors’ desks, mine was the only one that was organized. I kept all of Dr. Hashigami’s columns in a single file. But there were also the notes I’d taken during my meetings with him, and the books he’d given me to read. The books, especially, I would have to return to the family. I wanted to get everything organized now so that I wouldn’t have to rush when I needed them.

Dr. Hashigami was a university professor, and he loved to teach people things. Every time we met so he could give me his draft, he’d also give me a couple of books he’d found interesting. By now, I had almost twenty of the things. I’d been working my way through them, but I was busy with my work as an editor and didn’t have as much time to read as I wanted.

All the books were still in a paper bag under my desk. Professor, I’m sorry... I apologized in my mind as I took them out. It felt like I should read as many of them as I could before I gave them back. I took them all out of the bag so that I could see what they were.

“Oh...” Mixed in with the pile of books was the notebook I thought I’d lost a month ago.

It was a small B6 notebook, about five by seven inches, with a brown cover. I’d gone for function over form, so it wasn’t especially cute. That was definitely mine. I’d almost given up on finding it. How did it get in here?

I was glad that I’d found it now, I thought. This was the notebook I’d used during many of my meetings with Dr. Hashigami. Perhaps Dr. Hashigami’s soul had done me one last little kindness before heading off into the next world. Or was that inappropriate to think?

I flipped through the pages to see what was inside. Looking back over it now, I could see that it was filled with words I didn’t know. But every word I saw reminded me of what Dr. Hashigami was talking about when I wrote it.

“Huh?” Suddenly my vision blurred. I’d started crying, somehow. Was I finally starting to feel sad?

I took off my glasses and wiped the corner of my eyes. I needed to make sure I went to the wake and the funeral. I needed to say goodbye. And if he did write one last article, I wanted to make sure the world saw it. Of course, I’d need to get his family’s permission.

“Hmm?” As I flipped through the pages, lost in thought, one part caught my attention. It was written in red pen, as opposed to black or blue, and marked “important” as well.

There were three phrases there: “the bottom of the water,” “moonlight,” and “many people.”

“What was this, again?” It was definitely my handwriting. I could vaguely remember writing it. But I couldn’t remember what we were talking about, or what it meant. “Hmm... I’m pretty sure it was sometime recent, too.” Probably last month, when I’d met him.

I tried to remember, but I couldn’t. I could remember everything else in the notebook, but this one critical part had faded from my mind. It was really starting to bother me.

“I should calm down.” Maybe I should go to the convenience store and get a coffee or something.

I closed the notebook and put it on the desk, then sat up. I left the editorial office and headed for the elevators. Just as I pressed the button to go down, a light shock, like static electricity, went through my fingers. And at the same time, images came flooding into my head.

“Ascension!” I screamed. I looked around, and was relieved to see that there was no one there. “I remember! I remember!”

When the static electricity had hit me, I’d remembered what had happened when I’d written those words. It was last month, when I’d gone to get Dr. Hashigami’s article draft and had a brief chat with him about his future plans. He’d asked me a question, which was unusual for him.

—Sumikaze, do you remember any of your dreams lately? If any words come to mind immediately, I’d like you to tell them to me.

And that’s when I’d told him “the bottom of the water,” “moonlight,” and “many people.” I didn’t really remember the dreams themselves. Dreams always fade from your mind so quickly. But I remembered writing those words down.

“Why did he ask me that? Was he planning on writing about dreams?” In the end, I’d never know.

“Dr. Hashigami was murdered.”