Whatever the reason, Yoneda figured that having Kiyomi Sakata in his debt couldn’t be a bad thing. Takanori could picture the president promising to assist in any way possible, thumping his chest with pride, sure that obtaining the woman’s gratitude would net more jobs down the road.
“So there ya go. Anyway, take care of this one for me. If you notice anything, anything at all, let me know, okay?”
Yoneda’s attitude suggested that he had some ulterior motive, as though he regarded the USB stick as a nuisance and was looking to get it off his own hands and into Takanori’s.
Takanori did owe the man a favor. Before coming to Studio Oz, Takanori had performed a wide variety of tasks, from computer graphics to animation, at a general production company that handled a great many commercials. The job had been worthwhile in its own way, but ironically enough, as he mastered it, he became increasingly subsumed into the commercials division. Having hoped to polish his skills in a more comprehensive manner and eventually to put them to use in filmmaking, he wanted to avoid being trapped in a specialist job away from a broader field of possibilities.
At just that time, Yoneda, the head of a subcontracting production company, invited Takanori to join him.
Having recognized Takanori’s talent, and enticing him with dreams of creating a film production company together, Yoneda promised him carte blanche when it came to producing short films.
Takanori jumped at the offer and quit his job at the major production company, and two years had passed since his move to Studio Oz.
In an industry where people offered the impossible by way of an introduction, Yoneda actually kept his promise. Studio Oz spent what little money it possessed to start producing short films using CG and entrusted Takanori to direct a work. “The Green Wall” was screened at a regional film festival and won a prize; after being released on DVD, it gained a fairly high reputation among enthusiasts. On top of that, it generated enough revenue for the studio to recoup the production costs, and so with his first creation, Takanori managed to exceed expectations. All of it was thanks to the opportunities Yoneda had given him.
Considering all that, he couldn’t complain about the chore Yoneda was thrusting onto him.
Takanori turned on his computer and displayed the video on the USB stick.
As he suspected, he hadn’t saved it on his hard drive. First he executed a command to read it into his Docs.
He’d intended to turn off the power once he was done but held off, thinking he should watch it again before going to bed. It wasn’t a pleasant video; if he wanted to get a good night’s rest, the best thing to do was to go to sleep right away. But if he resisted the temptation and went to bed, he might dwell on it even more…
Takanori decided to set a time limit for himself. Often, while video processing on his computer, daylight would break. He gave himself ten minutes, certain that he could check the video again in that much time.
Yet as soon as he played it, the monitor captivated him and the time limit he’d set vanished. It was thanks to the gravitational pull of his experience from earlier in the day.
What first appeared onscreen was the studio apartment where the man had hanged himself. The man walked around the room, video camera in hand, the lens gliding over the dingy wallpaper and balcony doorframe, the table, and then the chair. The entryway door was open, and after part of the common corridor was captured on camera, the viewpoint turned back to the unit’s interior.
Takanori paused the video there. He had this feeling that while the door was still open, the number of the unit across the hall had shown. Scrolling up from the center of the facing unit’s door, he captured a rectangular shape that looked to be a number plate and gradually enlarged it. The numerals written on the plate were now magnified.
311.
Directly in front of the unit where the suicide had taken place was “Room 311.”
Next, the camera shook as it moved in an arc, and after going over the walls, it focused on the balcony doorframe before finally coming to rest atop the table.
Takanori paused the video once again, rewound it, and played it back frame-by-frame. He’d already honed in on his target. The specific scene that so aroused his interest was definitely in that segment. Though it had lasted but a brief moment, there was no way he could miss it.
When the camera focus cut across the glass door that led to the balcony, a view of the outside scenery appeared onscreen. The condominium unit opened to a jumbled cityscape. Though Takanori couldn’t tell which town, train tracks stretched from left to right.
He stopped the video at that scene and scrolled until he located his target, which he then enlarged.
There was a train station out there roughly parallel to the building but lower down. The upper section of the platform was covered by a roof, and the sides were enclosed by soundproof walls, but a thin rectangular gap provided a partial view of a train stopped there.
Takanori enlarged the image further. There was a digital display above the red train car indicating the destination. He could just barely zoom in enough for it to be legible.
Haneda Airport, Express.
If it was bound for Haneda Airport, he could immediately name the line. It was the outbound track of the Keihin Express.
After leaving Shinagawa, a special express headed for Haneda on the Keihin line would either stop at Kamata or proceed directly to its final destination. A regular express would stop at Aomono-Yokocho, Tachiaigawa, Heiwajima, and Kamata.
Just as he was about to return the video to its original size, Takanori paused it again. He saw an area in front of the platform where a cluster of rectangular objects stood. Shifting and enlarging the focus point revealed the objects to be tombstones. They were squeezed into a space beneath the eaves of several houses, forming a graveyard on a tiny plot of land.
Takanori gulped and just continued staring at the monitor.
Get a grip, he told himself. His mental screen flashed back to what he’d seen on his return trip from the hospital only a while ago.
When the outbound train on the Keihin Express had stopped at Aomono-Yokocho, he’d looked up through the gap between the roof and the wall of the platform to espy six apartment units lined up in a row.
Something clicked in his head.
Takanori looked away from the screen and drew a simple sketch on a piece of scratch paper he had handy. Next, he began assigning numbers to the row of six apartment units, starting from the right side with apartments 1, 2, and 3, and continuing from the left with 7, 8, and 9 for the units across the hallway. If he took the space for the elevator in the middle into account, Room 11 would be across Room 3. Across the way from the unit where the man had hanged himself was Room 311. That meant the one Takanori was looking at now was No. 303. In other words, it had to be the third unit from the right.
The one that had drawn his attention so powerfully and slowly blinked at him, invitingly…
It was possible that the floor he’d seen wasn’t the third floor. Judging from the position of the outbound express’s destination display, however, the part near the top of the balcony door would be visible from an inbound train. If you could see there from here, you could also see here from there.
On the train, Takanori had been compelled to act in anticipation of an event as if some precognition had taken effect. If he was still in its grip, the convergence couldn’t be a coincidence.
Did someone really commit suicide in this unknown studio apartment? If so, who was he? Casting aside the questions he should be asking, Takanori cowered at the invisible force filling the air around him.
He was being guided by somebody. Was this some clever trap, or was he just being made to watch some meaningless video? He couldn’t tell. All he could say for certain was that the genesis of this film had something to do with him.
The veins in his temples stood out. He could feel his pulse throbbing all over his head.
The hands of the wristwatch he’d put beside his computer
indicated that it was almost midnight. The long day was nearly at an end.
Today’s events were merely a prologue compared to the nightmare that was about to unfold—somehow, Takanori understood this.
CHAPTER TWO Guided
1
Up ahead and over the hill was Takanori’s condominium, where he was waiting. When Akane got close and looked up, she slowed her gait, overpowered by the sight of the super high-rise. Just then, the figure of a man on the opposite sidewalk entered her field of vision, and she instinctively came to a halt.
On her left stretched the display window of a brand-name store. Akane approached the glass so that her cheeks were practically touching it. It wasn’t because she was interested in the fancy handbags, but an instant reaction; she didn’t want this person to see how leery she was.
She had a terrible memory from her past of being followed by the shadowy figure of an unknown man, so this sort of thing especially made her shudder.
She knew that it was all in her mind. Similar things had happened to her many times before. Sure that she was being followed, she’d halt and observe the man’s behavior, and most of the time it would end with her feeling relieved because it had just been her imagination. Once, strolling in Shibuya, her eyes met a passerby’s who then made a U-turn and started following her. In that case, he obviously meant to chat her up for a date. When she made eye contact with a man and her instincts kicked in and she thought, Oh, he’s coming over to me, she was never wrong about it. After following her for a while and checking her out thoroughly, they almost always called out to her in a cheerful voice, which deflated her fear.
Thinking that this was probably another such instance, Akane pretended to look at the bags and kept a watchful eye on the man’s reflection in the display window.
He was standing on the sidewalk on the other side of the street with his back turned to her and a cell phone pressed to his ear. It felt a little strange to her that he’d chosen to stand there when he could easily have talked and walked at the same time.
What even made me notice that man? She tried to figure out why she’d unconsciously acted as she had.
She’d made the first move by abruptly stopping in front of the display window, and the man had reacted by coming to a halt and nonchalantly taking out his cell phone…That was how it had played out.
Maybe my nerves are just overactive. Could be an after-effect from when I fainted at the school gate two days ago. Not knowing why she’d collapsed made her more anxious than was probably necessary.
With her back still turned to the man, Akane kept watching his reflection in the window. It looked as though he might be in his thirties. He was slim, tall, and finely dressed. He had on a casual summer necktie and was wearing a short-sleeved white jacket over his shirt. She could find nothing suspicious about his appearance.
Twisting his body slightly, the man looked at Akane before casting down his eyes and kicking pebbles with the tip of his toes. Something about it seemed contrived to her. Then again, she wasn’t getting the sense that he wanted to pick her up.
Akane wanted to hurry over to the apartment where Takanori was waiting, but she was prevented from moving. It irritated her not to be able to go to him when he was only a stone’s throw away and surely waiting for her to come home.
As the days were longest this time of the year, there was still plenty of light outside even though it was almost past 6 p.m. Lit by his cell phone’s backlight, the area around the man’s nose had a pale glow in the window.
Akane took that as her cue to start walking.
There’s no way I’m going to let something silly like this ruin my first evening after moving in with Takanori.
All she had to do was to take some action to confirm there was nothing to worry about, and then she could laugh at herself for being so foolish.
The display window continued until it reached an elevated promenade, reflecting the scenery diagonally behind her on the right.
When she’d walked a mere couple of dozen feet, the man began in the same direction as if he’d timed his movement.
What? Akane yelped in her mind. So I wasn’t imagining things…
She and the man were moving in concert.
Just before the display window ended, Akane opened her cell phone and placed her hand mirror on the display, creating an impromptu rearview mirror. To any passersby, she would simply appear to be using her cell phone while walking.
Maintaining a certain distance but in lockstep, the man followed on the right-hand side behind her. Even so, she couldn’t afford to stop moving. Don’t do anything unnatural or he’ll catch on, her instincts warned.
After passing under the promenade and ascending the stone steps, she would arrive at the lobby of the condo where Takanori was waiting. If she could just make it through the lobby’s self-locking door, the man would naturally break off his pursuit. But then, he’d find out where she lived. On the very first day after she’d moved out of her cheap apartment in Tsurumi and into this midtown condo, her address would be in the hands of some mysterious man.
Mustering all her concentration, Akane struggled to think of the best course of action. She did not know for certain that the man was following her, but she was seized with dread and a mental alarm was flashing on and off.
She made a split-second decision to forgo the lobby and continued up the hill instead. She hooked a right at the T-shaped intersection at the end of the street, and with hurried steps, went inside a glass-fronted coffee shop.
For the entire time that she stood in line at the register, Akane’s mind remained focused on the sidewalk outside. She began counting, and exactly ten seconds later the man appeared along the sidewalk.
He didn’t turn his head to look inside the shop. Then again, if he’d seen her enter, he wouldn’t need to check.
Akane considered leaving the shop and going back the way she’d come, but she had the feeling that the man would be out there somewhere watching for her. If he were waiting for her to exit and started following her again, there might be nowhere for her to go.
Despite walking in such muggy weather, she was thirsting for something hot to drink.
She ordered a cup of hot milk and took a seat with her drink in hand. Her eyes were fixed on the entrance. If he came in, once again, she’d be stuck with nowhere to go.
Am I just being paranoid?
She still couldn’t be sure. Though in all likelihood she was over-thinking it, she couldn’t summon the courage to settle the matter. It felt as if the solid ground was crumbling away from her view of the world. Ever since she’d passed out at the school gate at noon the day before yesterday, delusions had invaded her reality. She wondered if it was being twisted and truth and illusion had become tangled up inside her.
Whenever a customer went in or out, the tepid air of the rainy season flowed in. Yet Akane was trembling. She couldn’t help being wracked by anxiety.
She wanted to connect with Takanori right then and there. If she could hear his voice, she could shove away this illusion, solid reality would return, and she’d have the courage to act with resolve.
She took her cell phone out of her bag to call him.
When she brought up his number in her registry and was about to press the call button, she noticed a small difference on her phone’s display. There was an icon flickering at the top. A small light was flashing, its rhythm synched with the alarm going off in her mind.
Having never seen it before, Akane wondered what the flashing meant.
As she looked on, though, it gradually dawned on her. Somebody was trying to identify her location by GPS…
Who? And why?
Akane tried to come up with a logical explanation. Perhaps Takanori was worried she might have passed out somewhere with nobody else around her. But she shook her head. She shouldn’t be deceiving myself with such a convenient explanation. Takanori wasn’t that kind of person. He’d be loath to do anything like track someone in secret—it wasn??
?t in his character.
Was the nightmare she’d pushed away to the bottom of her memory rising up again? If so, the GPS flashing was a sign.
Wanting only to hear his voice, Akane pressed his number.
Waiting for him to pick up, she kept her eyes locked on the scenery outside the window, not even blinking. As the dusk thickened, men and women continued to pass by without ado.
From a blind spot on the left side of the window she was looking through—the man stared at her.
Come out, little girl. Let’s play hide and seek, like we used to.
She felt like she could hear the man whispering from somewhere.
2
Takanori went to the balcony, seeking only to shake off his drowsiness. Yet he found himself captivated by the view from the west-facing room and ended up staying longer than he had intended.
The west horizon was covered by thin clouds and painted a brilliant vermillion by the setting sun.
Takanori liked the moderate height there on the twelfth floor of the forty-floor skyscraper. Going higher up diminished the sense of reality of the bird’s-eye view.
When you soared even higher, you had the illusion that the world had lost a dimension. On an airplane that was about to land, if you got close to the window and looked down at the scenery near the runway, the golf courses and houses that colored the hillsides sometimes looked like the board of “The Game of Life.” The world stretching beneath was fictional, and you were gazing down on a two-dimensional flatness from your three-dimensional perch. That feeling—resembling a sense of superiority—faded little by little as the plane descended and the scenery was fleshed out, its reality returning in full when the wheels touched the tarmac.