Chapter 37: Threads

In his two days in Japan, Ma En had already heard plenty about "Terahana." The celebrity was a fixture on every chart and ranking — even ten-year-old girls on the sidewalk talked about her. But impressions assembled from hearsay had never coalesced into a vivid, three-dimensional image in his mind. Probably because the praise was too thick. Rumors that would seem improper if attached to an ordinary person seemed to acquire a halo on her, leaving Ma En with the uneasy sense that all of Japan revolved around this single figure. Was it the culture, or was she genuinely that exceptional?

A glance at Hirota's TV stand confirmed several of Terahana's magazine covers on display. Hirota's work intersected with the celebrity, but these magazines didn't look like professional materials — they were personal interest. And just that morning, Asuka — another woman he'd only recently met — had proven herself a fervent devotee. Her enthusiasm ran so high that Ma En had started to wonder whether he should avoid mentioning Terahana around her entirely.

On the other hand, the hazy impression Terahana left on him kept nudging his thoughts in an unfavorable direction. Her name appeared too often in the vicinity of Room 4, giving Ma En a persistent feeling that the coincidences had stacked up past the point of being coincidental. Even so, labeling someone a dangerous figure based on that alone was not his style. He'd always told himself not to judge on appearances — and he hadn't even seen her in person.

This kind of first impression was genuinely dangerous. It made him more vigilant, not less — determined to cut off any chain of association before it could take root.

Yet even with that discipline, the name Terahana kept sinking deeper.

Hirota had mentioned that Terahana would be transferring to the new school Katsura Masakazu-sensei was founding. Though he couldn't confirm it yet, once he started working there, the odds of encountering her at the school were nine in ten. The thought actually made the prospect of starting his new job a little more appealing.

Ma En noted his own reaction and deliberately steered the conversation away from Terahana.

"I heard from the crew members that a professor came on as a guest?" He had some thoughts about this professor, too.

"That's right. There's a shrine at that site — it was clearly worshipped at some point in the past. And in recent years, rumors have been circulating that whatever happened on that land was connected to acts of desecration against the gods..." Hirota's voice faltered for a moment before she continued. "Anything involving the divine tends to be handed down from antiquity, tied to local traditions and customs. So naturally, there are plenty of people interested in investigating that shrine."

"I noticed some privately compiled local histories at a bookshop nearby. They mention that land, too. My sense is that quite a few people have tried investigating it on their own, but for some reason, almost none of them produced anything concrete." Ma En said.

"That does seem to be the case. But isn't that exactly what makes it intriguing? That's why the production team brought in a guest this time — for a semi-official excavation of sorts." Hirota seemed well-informed about the details. "The expert's argument is that most investigators have focused on the cultural history of the land, approaching it through local folklore and customs. But Bunkyo District has been developed for a long time. Most of the old clues were lost through successive rounds of urban planning and construction, making that angle difficult. The land itself falls within the park's designated natural forest zone, which spared it from redevelopment — but even historically, it was a neglected area. Nobody paid it much attention. So paradoxically, there isn't much documentation to inherit."

"I see — that's his angle." Ma En nodded. Laughter rolled from the variety show on TV, but his thoughts tracked Hirota's words. The expert had a point, he had to admit — one of those blind spots most people walked right past. "So what approach is this professor planning to take?"

"The shrine itself. It's been there all along — isn't it the most obvious piece of evidence?" Hirota said. "Maybe that's exactly the problem — it's so obvious that even people who've studied it tend to dismiss it quickly as unremarkable, and their attention drifts elsewhere. The expert said as much: among the materials and analyses currently available about that land, the treatment of the shrine is consistently shallow. Looking at the exterior alone, it genuinely doesn't differ much from most shrines. Without a certain depth of knowledge, it would be very difficult to identify what sets it apart."

Ma En thought the expert's reasoning held up. From the materials he'd already gathered, the number of people who'd investigated that land was unknown, but at least seven or eight had published books mentioning it — and those who'd investigated privately without publishing would be far more numerous. Since the shrine was plainly visible, the more people examined it without results, the more naturally later investigators' attention would drift away from it.

But the fact that this professor was turning his focus back to the shrine proved a considerable confidence in his own abilities — at minimum, the belief that previous investigators had failed only because their knowledge was insufficient, their observations too shallow, their thinking misguided. Something had been overlooked.

"He sounds very confident. Which university is he from?" Ma En asked.

"Whether he's confident, I honestly couldn't tell you. He doesn't look much like a professor. Calling him modest doesn't fit either. The whole man just seems... insubstantial. Even when he's talking, he always comes across as lacking any real drive. And when he's not talking, you can't begin to guess what's going through his head." As she delivered this assessment, Hirota's figure emerged from the corner of Ma En's vision, carrying a plate.

She knelt halfway down and set the dish on the coffee table, clearing away the other items. Ma En looked it over. He couldn't identify a single thing on the plate. The colors and arrangement were pleasant enough, but the fragrance was faint.

"What is this?" He couldn't help asking.

"Mixed vegetables," Hirota said casually.

"Made from what?"

She said a word Ma En had never heard in his life. Some kind of specialized ingredient name. It couldn't be something common in everyday cooking — otherwise he couldn't have gone this long without encountering it. Japanese and Chinese ingredients weren't identical, but something he'd never heard of seemed genuinely obscure.

He repeated the question, confused. She said the word again. Still nothing.

He stared at the unfamiliar food on the plate and tried a different approach. "Wild greens? Or fruit?"

"Wild greens and fruit, plus mushrooms and beans." Hirota could see his confusion. "It's a specialty from back home. All of it grows in the mountains near my family's place — you won't find any of it in stores. But it's good, I promise."

"I see..." Ma En nodded. When she turned back to the kitchen, he asked: "Where's home for you, Hirota-san?"

"Akita. Deep countryside. The bus only comes once every four hours." She said it like the most ordinary fact in the world.

"The countryside has its charms." Ma En left it at that. He stared at the plate. Visually, it looked fine. But the prospect of eating it felt like an ordeal, because every single component was something he'd never encountered. It wasn't that he'd prejudged it as inedible — the resistance was purely psychological. Something about food that was completely unknown.

If he'd even heard the name before, it would help. As long as it came from a plant or animal he recognized — even an insect — the aversion wouldn't be this strong.

At this point, Ma En felt dinner had taken a turn toward the perilous.

"I'm curious, Hirota-san — the rest of the dishes aren't also going to be things nobody's heard of, are they?"

"No. That plate's just so you can try a taste of my hometown. The main course is tonkatsu, vegetable salad, natto, and miso soup — all from the supermarket." She seemed to understand exactly what he was worried about. "If you don't like it, you don't have to touch the stir-fry."

No — if you say that, then I definitely have to eat at least two bites.

Ma En sighed inwardly.

"Tonkatsu? In an open kitchen like this — isn't deep-frying going to create a lot of smoke?" He changed the subject.

"Will it? I don't think so." She seemed unconvinced. "Come see for yourself if you want."

Ma En didn't get up. He'd only said it to shift the conversation. He had no real interest in kitchen affairs. He could cook, but that didn't mean he cared about cooking. Right now, someone else was handling it, and that suited him fine.

"By the way — the professor the show invited. What's his name?" He redirected again, landing on what actually interested him.

"Mitarai Sanshirou," Hirota said.

"..."

Should I even be surprised anymore?

By now, Ma En had stopped marveling at these coincidences. He simply felt that before the relationship diagram he'd been assembling could be completed, another, subtler web had already strung itself between him and every person he'd encountered or heard about in recent days. He didn't want to view it through the lens of conspiracy — but he couldn't pretend it was nothing, either. The question was: why him? Or rather — why Room 4?

The only person who knew anything about Ma En's background was Kamishima. And the threads running from Kamishima all led to politics.

The Room 4 rumors, by contrast, had initially seemed unrelated to politics — nothing more than a supernatural ghost story. Even the police connection could be chalked up to standard information-control tactics for managing public attention. Normal behavior.

The junction between the two seemed to have appeared only after Ma En himself moved into Room 4. Turn it around: if someone else had taken that room, and Room 4 produced another incident, would it still have drawn out the demoted Superintendent Matsuzaemon?

From the names in hand, the figures most deeply connected to Room 4 were Matsuzaemon on the political side and Mitarai Sanshirou on the academic side. Room 3's unstable tenant and Room 6's Hirota, despite their physical proximity to Room 4, were actually less conspicuous than either of those two.

And yet the two people who felt most like breakthrough points were precisely the ones he had neither time nor opportunity to visit in the near term. Showing up unannounced would feel too abrupt — it would put them on guard and make it hard to extract anything useful. Judging by how others described them, neither Matsuzaemon nor Mitarai were easy people to deal with.

Ma En had no way of knowing how his own analytical instincts compared to those of the capable subordinates he'd once directed. But from experience and gut feeling, he didn't think he was off the mark. The real problem was simpler: he was alone. No one to trust, no one to delegate to. Everything had to pass through his own hands. A completely different situation from the post office. It would take time to adapt.

What a pain.

Even with all his mental preparation, a hassle was still a hassle. The obstacles in front of him were objective facts — they wouldn't budge just because his mindset shifted.

"Hirota-san — the program you're on, when does it air?" Ma En asked.

"About two weeks, probably. Since a professor's involved this time, the segments will be a bit different from usual. They also need to give him time to produce material worth talking about." Hirota said.

"Two weeks is enough for that? This kind of research could easily take months. Years, even."

"It's not an academic paper. The show isn't doing research — they just need a few scoops that nobody's had before." Hirota brought out another dish as she explained. "What Professor Mitarai wants to investigate beyond that is his own business. The production team doesn't care. If he's really an expert, producing something that catches the average viewer's attention within two weeks should be more than doable. If he couldn't manage even that, they wouldn't have invited him in the first place. They know who to pick."

"Actually, I'm interested in that land myself. I live in Room 4, after all — the Room 4 rumors are connected to that spot in Sanchoumoku Park." Ma En leaned forward. "Any chance you could get me into the production? If not, putting me in touch with Professor Mitarai would work too."

He could always reach Mitarai Sanshirou through the building manager's connection, of course. But more options were better. As things stood, Hirota's relationship with the professor — both of them working on the same show — was a more natural avenue than the manager's.

"What's your role in the program, by the way?" he asked.

"Odds and ends. Interviews. Standing in as an ordinary-citizen guest when they need one." Hirota answered.