Chapter 14
2. The God in the Box at the Bottom of the Water
The diner a little ways from the dam had wooden walls and a roof stained deep brown, as if they'd soaked up all the moisture in the air.
The softened floorboards gave the illusion of water seeping out with every step.
We were led to a four-person booth, and I sat diagonally across from Rokuhara rather than directly in front of him.
Rokuhara took the sticky menu and ordered simmered golden eye snapper. I still couldn't stand the sight of fish, so I went with the pork cutlet set meal and drained the glass of water on the table.
"So, that dam worker who lost it—are they okay?"
Rokuhara poured ice water from the pitcher into my glass.
"Yeah, apparently their life isn't in danger. They were taken to the hospital and confirmed by their daughter. Something about being fine thanks to regularly taking herbal medicine."
"That definitely had nothing to do with it."
The bell attached to the door rang, and two elderly men entered the shop, shaking off their plastic umbrellas.
"That's why I was against building the dam. It wasn't about the environment or anything like that. That village was always strange."
"Even if you say that, there was no point in keeping it. Everyone got creeped out and the young folks all left."
The old men sat down two tables away from us.
A staff member came out from the back and placed steaming set meals in front of us. Then, perhaps recognizing them as regulars, she asked the old men, "The usual okay?" before heading back.
"The village that got submerged by the dam—"
Rokuhara snapped his chopsticks and peeled the spine from the crumbling snapper.
"Apparently, their main industry was making coffins. They had a lot of camphor trees used for lumber."
"They say it was a gloomy village, and there wasn't much interaction with neighboring ones."
"I guess people don't want to be reminded of death while they're alive. Even if they treat it coldly, everyone ends up needing it eventually."
He's the kind of guy who brings up unpleasant topics during meals.
I still remember the first time I visited Rokuhara's place. We were gathered around a table with sushi delivery or something, and he started talking about the connection between Japanese gangs and illegal fishing. He didn't mean it as harassment—he just saw fish and remembered. That made it worse.
"Brother, don't talk about that stuff."
She scolded him in a voice I can still recall and smiled at me gently, her tear mole twisting slightly.
"What year was the dam built again?"
I shook off the thought and tried to change the subject.
"Ninety-nine."
Rokuhara stopped his chopsticks from obsessively picking apart the fish bones.
"The origin of the current Territorial Divine Offenses seems to cluster around the late '90s. I don't think it's the same cause, but it feels like there's some factor involved."
I peeled the breading off my pork cutlet and stuck it back on as I thought.
"Miyaki said it's like a game bug."
"A bug?"
"Yeah, back with that mermaid village case. It really did feel like something that should've gone normally got thrown off at one point, and everything warped from there. Just a hunch, though."
"A distortion, huh..."
Rokuhara drank half his water, then tilted the glass.
"It's not the same as what's happening now, but apparently weird stuff happened in that village underwater a few years before the dam was built. Like, people said they heard voices of the dead coming from wooden boxes made from the village trees."
I feigned calm and replied, "Oh yeah?"
"Villagers claimed to hear voices of deceased friends or family, and said they had to go see them. A lot of them ended up hanging themselves with camphor tree rope. Around that same time, there were many reports of seeing a person in mourning clothes over four meters tall."
A black shadow standing idly with its feet dipped into the dam. Was that the root of it all?
"They say it was divine punishment for using sacred coffin wood for mundane things... Might be worth investigating that angle too."
"I wasn't sure whether to say this..."
I washed down the completely cold rice with water, set down my chopsticks, and looked at Rokuhara.
"After I locked eyes with the thing at the dam, I heard Misaki's voice."
Rokuhara widened his eyes slightly.
"She didn't say anything special. Just told me to take a break and eat something. Totally normal stuff, and I stupidly answered back."
The streaks of rain on the window blurred the outside view like swirling white fog.
"You shouldn't respond to voices of the dead."
Rokuhara gave a wry smile and shrugged. He's the kind of guy who stays calm even in disasters, but I could tell this was just a front.
The only sound was the old men two seats away sucking on toothpicks. Rokuhara looked out the window and muttered like talking to himself.
"I was against you joining this department. Misaki's already dead. Even if you figure out the cause, she's not coming back. I just wanted you to live your life freely, not stuck in the past..."
"It's not your decision alone. She was your sister, yeah, but she was also my wife."
I bit into the pork cutlet drowned in lemon. All I could taste was lemon.
"And you're the one who keeps dragging in all these damn hopeless cases."
"You gotta make use of what you've got."
Rokuhara tilted his chin and gave a small smile—then his phone rang.
He pulled out his phone, exchanged a few words, and ended the call. After folding the phone shut, he went back to picking apart the fish bones.
"Was it something trivial?"
"Hard to say. The dam worker contacted us. Apparently things have gotten worse."
"None of this is trivial. Why are you calmly eating?"
Rokuhara picked at some pickles that might as well not have existed, but didn't get up.
"Most likely, that same unstable worker just got even worse. Rushing won't fix anything. You can't unboil an egg."
"What if someone's dead?"
"Then even more reason not to rush. The dead don't come back."
I felt stupid for being in a hurry and sipped my cold miso soup.
As we paid and were about to leave, I heard the old men talking in low voices over their empty plates.
"Come to think of it, that weird one came by."
"Weird one?"
"The bunch who used to come and go before the village became a dam. Don't know if it was a cult or what. They were handing out strange red decorations or something."
"Even if they come here, we're not making any coffins."
I wanted to hear more, but made eye contact with one of the old men and awkwardly left the shop.
Outside, it was raining fine needles—too light to decide whether to use an umbrella.
"You're late! How far did you go to eat?!"
The now overly familiar security guard came running up with a red baton in hand.
When Rokuhara said the name of the restaurant, the guard's eyes bulged. "That's right nearby!" I thought he really didn't need to say that.
The panic was so ridiculous it would've been funny—if it weren't for the fact that all the staff had gathered outside.
Several patrol cars slid into the parking lot, their black and white bodies repelling the rain.
"What happened?"
"That worker who lost it earlier escaped from the hospital and came back."
Even as the guard spat foam from the corner of his mouth, police officers were pouring out of the cars and rushing into the control center.
"Did he go on a rampage?"
"He did, but that's not the problem—he rampaged and headed for the dam's elevator!"
Rokuhara furrowed his brow. From the control center, we heard shouts of shock from the men.
"What did he do after getting on the elevator? Did he go down into the dam?"
"Before he could—he got eaten!"
Rokuhara and I exchanged glances. The vague, lonely black shadow standing at the bottom of the dam came to mind.
Wasn't that god supposed to do nothing?
Rokuhara and I were rushed toward the dam.
The spray that hit our bodies—who knew if it was rain or discharge.
Soaked to the bone, we were led past the control center and into the dam's raw concrete corridor.
There was no one in sight, yet it was incredibly noisy.
A police officer brushed past my shoulder and ran deeper in. The commotion grew louder.
As we walked through the corridor, covered in silver plates like a spaceship, our voices echoed off the metal. That's when I finally realized something was wrong with the conversations.
"I need a milk carton for tomorrow's art project."
"Why didn't you say so earlier? I'll have your dad pick one up on the way home."
"Hey, those shoelaces you gave me for my birthday snapped right away."
"We need to switch the tires to winter ones on our next day off. Looks like it'll snow."
Mixed in with the police officers' murmurs were casual conversations like you'd hear at home, school, or work. Why were they talking about this now?
I reached a crowd and stopped.
The packed officers were shouting and stringing up yellow and black tape.
"What the..."
Rokuhara muttered, just as I saw what was beyond the officer's shoulder.
The inorganic silver elevator doors were flung open, and the overload buzzer kept blaring.
Massive bulges like tumors overlapped each other, pushing open the heavy silver doors from the inside.
These clusters, resembling ripened carnivorous plants, were split red down the middle and squirmed incessantly.
Mouth, mouth, mouth, mouth, mouth.
Something filled with countless mouths inside the box was chirping.
"Hey, didn't Dad say he preferred light blue over pink?"
"I kinda want to lend that manga I gave you to my junior soon."
"I'm getting old, so I think I'll leave the grave maintenance to my older brother."
"Is the senior coming to tomorrow's fishing trip? At least come to the afterparty."
The grotesque tumors were spewing unbearably ordinary voices with unbearably peaceful words.
Countless mouths snapped at the air in response to the tape sealing off the elevator.
Those yellowed teeth were still smeared with fresh blood.