Clocktower Page 4

  “Not that I know of.” Zachary Finch fidgeted uncomfortably as Johnny drew closer.

  “Were they sexually active?”

  “Excuse me?” he exclaimed as he spun his head back toward Johnny and narrowed his eyes. “That’s a very odd question to ask a teacher. Odd, and inappropriate.”

  “I hear you’re quite popular at this school. That your hand is on the pulse of the students. The kind of teacher that students come to for guidance, not just for academic matters.”

  “Just what are you insinuating, Mr. Tokisaki? That I take any interest in the sexual activities of my students? There is a line, good sir. A line that professionals like myself do not cross.” Small beads of perspiration formed over his lip.

  “You still haven’t answered the question,” Johnny pointed out.

  “I don’t know!” he shouted.

  “Zachary,” Gabriel cautioned. “Control yourself.”

  Johnny turned and walked back toward the bookshelves, then reached into his coat for another cigarette.

  “I see what your angle is,” Gabriel said, turning toward him. “You think this might have been caused by some lovers’ quarrel. I admit, the same possibility occurred to me as well. I’ve run through these events in my head a thousand times, but as tempting as that answer is, there’s no way for it to be true.”

  “Why not?” Johnny asked.

  “I don’t think any of the boys at this school would have the courage to approach Ayano, let alone try to make her their girlfriend. She was intimidating to them. Hell, she was intimidating to us. Zachary, did you ever see her with any of the male students?”

  “Not once” he answered. “It is as you say. Ayano wasn’t just any girl. Everyone understood that.”

  “So much for the easy answer,” Johnny sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Finch. You can go now.” He dismissed him with the wave of a hand, turning back to the bookshelves as he did.

  Zachary looked back at Gabriel, who gave him a brief nod, then exited the room without further comment. Johnny waited for his footsteps to fade out of earshot, and after taking another puff from his cigarette, took his seat in front of Gabriel once again.

  “Mr. Tokisaki,” he started. “Do you play Japanese chess?”

  “Shogi? I know the rules, though I can’t say I’m an avid player of the game. Why do you ask?” Johnny put out his cigarette in the ashtray and leaned back.

  “There’s a certain concept of forcing your opponent into unfamiliar games. A player will surrender an advantage by making a suboptimal play in order to force a ‘new game.’”

  “A new game?” Johnny leaned forward.

  “Shogi has a finite number of possible moves. High-level games are recorded and studied by professionals. In doing this, they know how certain strategies play out and can plan counter strategies several turns in advance. But by not playing those moves—by instead forcing the game in a direction that has never been played in a recorded match before—the game then begins to favor the player who can think quick on his feet. Make sense?”

  Johnny nodded. “Are you saying my conversation with Mr. Finch was suboptimal?”

  “Ha!” he laughed. “That’s right. Don’t get me wrong, Zachary is a great teacher, but he can be a little arrogant. Seeing him squirm a bit wasn’t entirely unappealing.”

  “Do you play?” Johnny asked.

  “Not seriously, no. My father does though. We used to play together every night when I was younger.” Gabriel leaned back and sighed. “I never beat the old codger. Not even once.”

  There was another knock at the door, followed by a muted voice asking permission to come in.

  “One moment!” Gabriel said.

  “I’d like to speak with Ms. Goto,” Johnny said, standing up. “Is she here?”

  “No. She’s at home.” He took out a sheet of notepaper from his desk and scribbled down an address, then handed it over. “I couldn’t ask her to come back to work so soon after what happened. But if you’d like to try and talk to her, you can find her here. She lives on this side of The Bezel. Just ten minutes by car.”

  “Thank you.” Johnny pocketed the note and moved to shake Gabriel’s hand.

  “I know you must be working under some pretty severe restrictions, all things considered. But I would like to know as much as everyone else why this happened. If you need anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask.”

  “Hopefully I won’t have to trouble you any further, Principal Itsuka. But if you happen to think of anything else, I’ll be staying at The Wheel Bridge. You can find me there.”

  “Good luck, Mr. Tokisaki.” Gabriel opened the door for him and gave him a saddened smile.

  Johnny proceeded back down the stairwell to the first floor, but took a left into the staff office before leaving. The same woman who had greeted him at the gate was here now, furiously writing notes in a file that stood next to a stack of other files that reached halfway to the ceiling.

  “Would it be alright if I used your phone?” he asked, pointing at the counter.

  “Huh? Ah!” She looked up, flustered. “Principal Itsuka’s guest, Mr. Tokisaki, right? Of course! Dial nine first, then the number of the person you’re trying to reach.”

  “Thank you,” he said. Johnny took out the business card Mrs. Saito had given him and began punching in the numbers, but stopped and hovered his finger above the last one.

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Tokisaki?” the young lady asked. Johnny considered his options. Calling and getting permission would mean that Saito would waste precious time getting to Ms. Goto first and “prepping” her for his arrival. He kicked around his options for a few seconds before putting the phone back down and giving the girl a smile.

  “On second thought, I think I’ll walk,” he said. The lady tilted her head at him, confused.

  “Have a nice day,” he said. “And good luck with all those papers.”

  Sixth Movement

  Haunted

  He took a left at the gate, and after a short walk, Johnny found himself back at the main avenue that ran the width of The Bezel. It was sunny, but still cold enough that after just a block of walking, he found himself blowing warm air onto his fingers to keep them from going numb.

  Despite it being an American city, everything in Sonnerie was surprisingly cramped. Buildings were pressed against each other like loaves of bread in a supermarket. There were no particularly tall buildings, either. A selection of shops and restaurants, and the occasional café.

  The morning streets were alive, and people greeted him with a smile and a bow when they saw the insignia on his collar. Johnny tried his best to be polite, but after the fourth attempt at small talk was made by a passing housewife and her children, he flipped his collar up to hide the pin and kept walking.

  The whole atmosphere and architecture of The Bezel reminded him of his youth in Kyoto. There was hardly any dissimilitude—even the street signs were written in Japanese. If it weren’t for the cars driving on the right side instead of the left, he may not have been able to tell the difference.

  After a good twenty minutes of trekking eastward, he dipped into one of the smaller cafés to buy a drink and ask for directions. The young man behind the counter was initially perplexed. Johnny could tell that no one in Sonnerie had ever needed to ask anyone else for directions before. The town wasn’t large enough to get lost in. After a few awkward pauses, he flipped his collar back down, revealing his pin and instantly making his position clear. The young man apologized profusely, then set him on the right path toward Mei Goto’s house.

  The shops along the road eventually gave way to small apartment complexes mixed in with mid-size houses. Johnny followed the directions he had been given to the letter, making a left at the third intersection, followed by a right shortly after, landing him on the street of Mei Goto’s home. It was a quiet, cozy neighborhood,
but just like with the shops along the main road, there was almost zero space between each property. None of them had front lawns, but instead featured small gardens on either side of their entry ways.

  The Goto house was much the same. An inscription on her mailbox with her last name marked his destination. A white Honda was parked in the driveway, and in the garden were several decorative black steel butterflies. He took a moment to admire their craftsmanship before pushing open a small, cream-colored gate that led him to the front door, then gave it a firm knock.

  “Who is it?” a voice from inside answered.

  “My name is Mr. Tokisaki. I’m here to see Mei Goto.”

  For several seconds, there was no response. He reached his hand up to knock another time, but when he did, it opened just a hair.

  “Are you from the hospital, Mr. Tokisaki?” the woman behind the door asked.

  “No, I’m afraid not. I’m here on business,” Johnny answered.

  The door opened a little wider, revealing a tall woman in her early thirties. She looked him up and down suspiciously. “My sister isn’t taking any visitors right now. Please leave.”

  “I’m sorry,” Johnny said. “But I really must speak with her.” He lowered his collar again, revealing his pin. “It’s urgent.”

  The woman opened the door further and bowed her head deeply. “Forgive me.” She instantly recoiled, as if expecting some kind of assault. Johnny hesitated. Her hair was shoulder length and jet black, and her bangs were held to the side with a pink pin in the shape of a dragonfly. She had on a matching pink turtleneck and dark blue jeans that hugged her generous figure.

  “I did not mean to offend an esteemed guest of the Twelve.” She paused for a moment, then looked up at him. “You’re not . . . you’re not here to take Mei away, are you?”

  “Take her away where? I’m just here to ask her a few questions.”

  The woman rested a trembling hand on her chest and let out a sigh of relief. “Of course,” she said. “I’m sorry, please forget I asked. Please, come in.”

  She led him down a short hallway into a living room, and bid him to take a seat on the sofa in front of the television. “My name is Nana,” she said as she walked back to the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Nothing for me, thank you,” Johnny answered, scanning the room with his eyes. The walls were covered in striped white-and-gold wallpaper, and on the shelf above the television was a picture of the two sisters together in front of the clocktower.

  “Is it just you two living here?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, taking a seat in a chair to his side. “Our parents passed away when Mei was in junior high school and I had just turned eighteen. Car accident.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Johnny turned to face her. “Where is your sister now?”

  “She’s upstairs in her room. Hasn’t left it since she came home on Friday. Won’t speak a word to me. Dr. Tonimura came over Saturday morning and said she had suffered from a mild seizure.”

  “I see.” Johnny tapped his fingers on the armrest. “You haven’t been able to communicate with her at all?” he asked.

  “I bring her meals, but she barely eats. She just keeps looking out the window, like she’s waiting for something.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “I don’t know,” Nana shrugged. “She speaks only to herself, but it’s all gibberish. I can’t make heads or tails of any of it. The doctor said it’d only last a week or so and to pay it no mind, but . . .”

  “Ms. Goto,” Johnny started.

  “Nana.” She forced a smile through her worried expression.

  “Nana.” Johnny nodded. “May I go upstairs and see her, please? I need to ask her some questions.”

  “I’d like to be there with you, if you don’t mind,” Nana said.

  Johnny stopped tapping his fingers and clasped his hands together. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I know this is very upsetting. I’m only someone who you’ve met not five minutes ago, and I’m asking a lot to enter your home and question your sister unsupervised.”

  “No. No,” Nana said. “It’s not my place to question a guest of the Indices. You’re only here to help. Yes.” She nodded.

  Johnny stood up and thanked her, then followed as she led him upstairs and to the door of Mei’s room.

  “Please wait for me downstairs,” he said. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

  “Very well,” she said. “Please be gentle with her.”

  He waited until the sound of her footsteps descended downstairs and disappeared into the living room below. When he was satisfied, he lightly rapped on the door, then gave it a gentle push. Mei was exactly where Nana had said, in her seat in front of an open window. She had on a large sweater and was wrapped in a red-and-white blanket.

  “Ms. Goto?” he approached her. “My name is Johnny Tokisaki. I’m here to talk to you about what you witnessed last Friday.”

  No response. Johnny cleared his throat and took a seat on an ottoman on Mei’s right side. “I’m from Los Angeles,” he continued. “I’m hoping to help find some answers for everyone.”

  He leaned over and moved his hand back and forth in front of her eyes, but there was no reaction. She was fixated on something outside, but what it was, he could not tell.

  “Ms. Goto,” he started again.

  “They come out and play in the evening,” she said.

  “Who?” Johnny asked.

  “One girl stays, and the other goes far away.”

  Johnny pulled out his notebook and flipped it to an unmarked page.

  “Which one stays and which one goes away?” he asked.

  “The village with the catfish-men. They jump into the sea with a full moon.”

  “Are the girls in that village?” he asked in vain hope that his words would reach her ears.

  “Twelve cups bicker in a room where time stands still,” she said. “They desire wine, but the servant keeps bringing them water.”

  Johnny scribbled as quickly as he could. There would be time for questions later.

  “One cup fell off the table and shattered on the floor below. Another one cracked in the wash and the others never saw it again. A shame. A shame.”

  A frigid breeze blew through the window, and her body began to shiver and shake. “The angry man has two rings. One has two gems and the other has three. He saw the tower at the end of time, but couldn’t get inside.”

  Johnny put his notebook down and reached over to the window to shut it, but she grabbed his arm and shook her head.

  “Mei?” he asked. “Do you see me? Do you understand me?”

  “The demon princess awaits her second death, for it marks the coming of her true prince.”

  Johnny said nothing and waited for her to continue.

  “One girl stays, and the other goes far away,” she said again. This time, she started to lean forward. “They gave one an escapement, and let the other escape.”

  Johnny looked out the window again, but still he saw nothing. Not a single car, bike, person, or cat moved anywhere that was visible.

  “Mei.” He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed tight. “Do you know what happened to Mari and Ayano?”

  There was the slightest movement in the eyes. A twitch. A sound coming from somewhere distant had awoken something deep inside.

  “Mari,” she said. “Mari.” Tears began to flow down her cheeks, and before long she was sobbing.

  “The angry man.” Her voice was a panicked whisper now. “He watches the cups in the room where time stands still. He watches. He waits. He . . .” She jolted up suddenly and pointed out the window.

  Johnny looked out again, but this time, there was something out there that hadn’t been before—the figure of a girl standing at the edge of an alle
y across the street. Too distant to make out her features. She looked up at them for a moment before turning around and heading down the alley.

  Johnny grabbed his notebook and pen and shoved them into his pocket as fast as he could, then threw the door open and ran down the stairs.

  “Mr. Tokisaki?” Nana called from the living room, but he was already gone. He flew through the front door and sprinted across the street to the alley where the mysterious girl had stood, arriving just in time to see her disappear at the other end.

  “Wait!” he shouted. His legs carried him as fast as they could, and when he emerged at the street on the other end of the alley, he got another glimpse of the girl—this time no more than fifty yards to the west. She turned to look at him, then took a right and disappeared from sight once again. “Come on!” He cursed under his breath and kept running, but when he got to the corner, she was already another fifty yards ahead, making another turn.

  What started out as a chase soon turned into a short marathon. The girl led him in a zig-zag pattern between wide streets and narrow alleys until finally he could hear the sound of traffic from the main road not far away. With each turn, the distance between them shortened until he could make out the plaid pattern of her skirt and the black-and-gold trim of her jacket.

  At last, he made a turn that led back to the main road and came to a sudden halt. There she was, standing at the end of a narrow alley in front of a set of garbage cans. This time, she pointed down at one of the cans and looked over at him.

  He only saw her face for the briefest of instants, terrified and beautiful. But before he could go to her, someone from behind who had seen him running shouted and stole his attention. When he looked back, she was gone again, but the image of her face was burned into his mind.

  He reached into his pocket and opened his wallet, taking out the picture inside. There was no mistake. The person who had led him here was Mari Mishima, the murdered girl.

  Seventh Movement

  Morgue

  “I wasn’t expecting you to call this early.” Saito’s voice was hushed, but her sternness bled through the receiver.