Chapter 57: Tōkigan (Part 1)
Deep in the silent, watchful hours of the night.
Yomikawa Tsuko, having already showered, was lounging on the sofa, a dark, silken figure clad in a black, semi-translucent nightgown. Her pale, slender legs were crossed and propped up on the edge of the coffee table, a glass of ice water held loosely, almost carelessly, in her hand.
She raised her other hand, shielding her eyes from the harsh, interrogative glare of the overhead light. Her long, slender fingers clenched into a tight, white-knuckled fist, then slowly, deliberately, unfurled. She repeated the motion again, and then again, savoring the residual sensation, the phantom tactile memory, that still lingered on her fingertips. A slow, deeply satisfied, and utterly chilling smile spread across her beautiful face.
“My mood,” she thought, a sense of profound, euphoric calm settling over her, “has improved immensely. It seems that one truly does need the… correct… outlet to properly, and efficiently, vent one’s emotions.”
“Rock climbing, while effective at focusing the mind, is only a temporary, superficial solution. The moment the physical activity ceases, its palliative effects vanish.”
In her previous existence, she had engaged in such… activities… purely out of a sense of profound boredom. Back then, most things failed to capture her interest. Daily life was like an endless, tasteless glass of boiled water, utterly devoid of any emotional peaks or valleys. And so, the meticulous torture and killing of dogs had been a way to alleviate that gnawing emptiness, to give herself something to do.
But today, when she had once again taken up the knife, when she had returned to that familiar, bloody, and deeply intimate scene, the feeling had been entirely, intoxicatingly different.
A sense of pure, unadulterated pleasure had washed over her.
This pleasure, she realized, as she calmly analyzed her own internal state, stemmed from two distinct and equally satisfying sources.
First, in the very act of doing this, she had felt as if she were gradually, piece by piece, reclaiming her former, true self. The more skillfully, the more efficiently, she processed the small dog’s insignificant body, the more she felt a profound sense of… “Everything is slowly, but surely, returning to its proper, natural course.”
Second, the sight of the blood, the feeling of holding a life in her hands, of having absolute, god-like power over it… it had filled her with a strange, almost manic excitement. Her only minor regret was that the pet dog had been too small, its life force too weak. If only it had been larger, its will to live more tenacious, its struggles more… vigorous.
Like that pit bull from the house next to Kimura’s.
The memory of that day’s encounter, of the dog’s instinctive, primal fear of her, made Yomikawa Tsuko’s beautiful eyes narrow into dangerous, predatory slits. Perhaps she could pay another visit, when she had the time. To acquire that noisy, barking beast.
She drained the glass of ice water in a single, decisive gulp, then rose and went upstairs. She would rest now, in this good, satisfying mood. Over the next few days, she would have to use her precious free time to fabricate a few more diary entries, to be delivered, like a carefully calibrated dose of poison, to Kishida Masayoshi over the weekend.
......
Wednesday.
Compared to the previous two days, the weather today was not good. A thin, uniform layer of gray clouds completely and oppressively obscured the usual azure blue of the sky. The sun’s halo, even when stared at directly, was not dazzling, merely a weak, milky smudge in the gloom. A desolate, somber feeling permeated the very air.
After the last class of the afternoon, Yomikawa, as was now her custom, made her way to the clubroom. Even before she opened the door, she could hear Junko’s excited, high-pitched voice, and Takada’s curious, if somewhat dim-witted chatter, from within.
“Mie Island, eh? I looked it up a bit last night. It seems like a really, really interesting place! It would be so cool if we could go there for a trip during summer vacation!”
“Hey, hey, you’ve been sticking so close to Ōgami lately, like glue. Haven’t you asked him about that Tōkigan legend yet? I’ve been so curious for the past two days, I haven’t even been able to eat properly!”
“Hmph! Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. You’re so impatient, Takada-san. All brawn and no brains.”
“Tch! I was the one who saw through Kimura’s whole act from the very beginning, wasn’t I? His sleepwalking was all fake, and the final investigation proved it!”
Amidst their childish, bickering banter, Yomikawa Tsuko pushed the door open, a faint smile on her lips. “You all seem to be in good spirits,” she greeted them, her voice a calm, cool island in their sea of chaotic energy.
“Good afternoon, Senpai—”
“S-Senpai, g-good afternoon.”
Junko’s greeting was as cheerful and enthusiastic as ever. But the moment Takada Shōji saw her, he immediately became tense and flustered. It was likely because of what had happened a few days prior, during P.E. class; he still didn’t dare to meet her eyes.
“Good afternoon, everyone. Why isn’t Ōgami-kun here yet? Did something come up?” Returning to her designated seat, her throne, Yomikawa pretended not to notice Takada Shōji’s strange, guilty behavior.
“Yōsuke-kun is already here. He just stepped out to take a call.”
No sooner had Junko spoken than Ōgami Yōsuke returned. He looked the same as usual, but his expression, she noted, was now tinged with a heavy, uncharacteristic solemnity.
“That was my father on the phone,” he said, his voice low, serious. “A full day and night of searching has passed, and they haven’t found a single, solitary trace of Kimura-san.”
At these words, Junko was taken aback. “Did they search Mount Karasu-Go?”
“Not just Karasu-Go,” Ōgami Yōsuke replied after sitting down, his gaze distant. “The search and rescue team also went over the adjacent,and much larger Mount Ōkarasu. They found nothing. It’s like he just… vanished into thin air.”
Kana, as usual, immediately jumped to the most pessimistic conclusion. “Do you think… do you think Kimura-san has already met with a terrible fate? Didn’t we speculate before that he might have been in contact with someone involved in the Mie Island case? Maybe that person lured him out, and then…” She trailed off, then made a sharp, chilling, cutting motion with her hand.
“It’s a possibility,” Ōgami said, his brow furrowed in thought. “But if Kimura-san was lured out of his house in the middle of the night, why wouldn’t he have changed his clothes? No matter how you look at it, that part, his leaving in his pajamas, is very, very strange.” He paused, then shrugged, a gesture of weary resignation. “But that’s a matter for the detectives to ponder. As for me, I’ve finished reading all the materials on the legend of Tōkigan. And all in all, it is indeed a rather… bizarre… and deeply unsettling legend.”
“Hmph. About time. You didn’t keep me waiting too long, at least,” Takada Shōji said, trying to sound nonchalant as he crossed his arms, though his eyes kept darting furtively towards Yomikawa.
“In that case, Ōgami-kun, please begin,” Yomikawa said, deliberately, pointedly, ignoring Takada’s gaze. She crossed her legs, clad as always in their over-the-knee socks, and settled into a listening posture, a queen awaiting a report from her loyal subject.
Ōgami Yōsuke nodded, his expression now completely serious. “Before I talk about the legend of Tōkigan itself, I need to give you a brief overview of Mie Island. The island is approximately a five-hour boat ride from Honshu. If you look at it from a satellite map, Mie Island looks like three irregularly shaped islands of increasing size, arranged from west to east, almost as if they were once a single landmass that was shattered into three pieces.”
He took out a pen and a piece of paper. First, he drew a small, rough circle. Then, right next to it, he drew a larger, more rectangular shape. And to the right of the square, separated by a small, narrow channel, he drew another circle, connecting the three landmasses with two horizontal lines, representing bridges.
“If you land from the direction of Honshu, the further you go into the island, the larger the landmass becomes, giving you the strange, almost dreamlike, illusion of arriving in another world. That’s why it was named Mie Island, which means ‘Triple Island.’ Currently, there are three adjacent villages and towns on the island, with a total population of about fifteen thousand people.”
“The three settlements are, first, Gogatsu Village. The pier where you land from Honshu is in Gogatsu Village. It’s the smallest of the three, but it holds the highest, most ancient status. It’s home to many old, and some say, haunted buildings, like shrines, ancestral halls, temples, and decaying manors.”
Junko suddenly raised her hand, not waiting for permission to speak. “I know, I know! It’s because in ancient times, all the important people on the island lived in Gogatsu Village, right? Like the landlords, the samurai, the priests, that kind of thing.”
“That’s more or less the idea,” Ōgami Yōsuke nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “To the west of Gogatsu Village is Rokugatsu Village. Compared to Gogatsu, Rokugatsu is much larger and more modern. And then, further west, is Shichigatsu Village. Of the three, Shichigatsu is the most modernized. The only airport on Mie Island is located in the northern part of Shichigatsu Village.”
He paused, taking a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what was to come.
“And the legend of Tōkigan… it begins when he and his wife, two outsiders, two strangers, first arrived in Gogatsu Village.”
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