Hashiba realized he was looking forward to hearing Isogai’s analysis of the incident and began to stride up the path with renewed determination. Indeed, he felt a much greater personal investment in the program now that the focus was on science and not the occult. Finally, he was able to enjoy the sense of exhilaration that things were going his way.
Kagayama followed lethargically, a few steps behind. He’d been full of energy at lunchtime, but now he seemed hunched and withered.
“You okay there? You look pretty tired,” Hashiba asked, wondering what had brought about the sudden change.
Kagayama stopped and looked up, and even that seemed like it took effort. “I really hate this place. I feel nauseous every time we come.”
Hashiba knew exactly what he meant — the magnetic disturbance here did seem to have an adverse affect on the body. He remembered the time a couple of years ago when he’d visited an abandoned building to report on a succession of suicide cases. One of his cameramen had started to complain that he felt ill; the poor guy looked the part too. But Hashiba was sure that it had been a simple case of the man dwelling too much and convincing himself that because of the suicides there was something creepy about the place itself.
But this was different. Hashiba felt it too, a sort of crawling feeling under the skin. And there was a scientific basis for it, he was sure. They climbed a path up the middle of a small hillock of flowers, and from the top they had a clear view of the sea beyond. The path continued upwards, a shortcut to the top; they had almost come this way during the last visit. As it was their first time up this path, Hashiba stopped to take in the view.
The familiar shape of Hatsushima was visible ten kilometers out towards the horizon. The shadow cast by the hill stretched out across the sea, reaching towards the island. He had seen the same shadow on their last visit, but somehow it looked different this time. It wasn’t just the time of day — it looked strangely white, cloudy. Whereas a view of the sea usually helped calm him, today it seemed to further fan his nervous excitement. He looked back to Kagayama who was still treading laboriously up the wooden steps of the path. His close, tardy gait betrayed his desire to be somewhere else.
“Let’s just hurry and get this done before the sun sets,” he moaned.
Hashiba ignored Kagayama’s negativity and pushed on upwards. Where was this strange sense of excitement coming from? It felt as though something was spurring him on. Looking down he saw the snaking route of Route 135 towards the bottom of the valley, cars bumper to bumper. A few had their windows open, blaring loud Christmas songs that carried up the valley on the sea breeze. Hashiba recognized one of the songs: “Silent Night.” Someone was blasting the soft tune far too loudly. The melody blended together with the grumble of the engines, leaking through the trees around them as cacophonous white noise.
Ahead, there was a patio whose cobblestoned area lay beneath a wisteria-covered arch. If it were noon, the sun would cast a flecked mix of shadow and light on the ground. Passing through the arch, Hashiba came to a stop at the top of a small hill. The open space had a small wooden bench, a round table, and a small hut in the middle that resembled an oversized doghouse.
Hashiba walked around the bench and started to cross by the hedgerow at the edge of the patio when he stopped dead, frozen to the spot. He stretched his hand out in shock, almost forgetting to breathe. Only his eyes continued to move, darting around the edges of the thing that he saw. Hashiba thought to call out but was at a loss for words. How could he ever describe what he saw? Kagayama would catch up in a minute and could see for himself, but it was possible that he wouldn’t believe his eyes, his mind negating what his optical nerves were telling him.
Hashiba stood staring at the middle of the gentle valley, at the large gaping hole that had seemingly been hollowed out of the ground.
It was obviously not the work of human engineering.
It looked about 100 meters wide, maybe 50 meters deep. More appropriate to call it a crater than a hole, thought Hashiba. He strained his eyes towards the bottom. A dark, jagged fissure running northwest to southeast through its base gave the impression of a terrible force hidden below it.
Hashiba began to feel like he was looking down the caldera of a live volcano. He knew there were none in the area, although there were a couple of dormant ones nearby, Omuroyama and Komuroyama. Komuroyama had a caldera-like crater at its peak, and you could walk around the whole thing.
Of course, that crater had been the result of a volcanic explosion. This was something else entirely. Hashiba didn’t know what to think. He was sure that the crater hadn’t been there when they last visited three days ago. There hadn’t been any reports of disturbances over the last few days. Everything suggested that the crater had formed over the last few hours.
It was the overwhelming quiet that was the strangest. Just how could such a crater appear without any noise or fanfare? It was as though some consciousness was at work, reveling in the contradiction.
Why has nobody noticed this?
Hashiba looked up to the sky. Three days ago the sky above the park had been buzzing with helicopters, but today it was completely empty. Had people seen it and somehow lost interest, despite the scale of the thing? Or, more likely, had no one noticed it yet?
Footsteps approached from behind, Kagayama finally catching up. Hashiba kept his eyes on the mysterious crater. Kagayama drew up to his side and followed Hashiba’s line of sight, peering down. He threw his hands up in an exaggerated motion.
“I really do hate this place!” he exclaimed, laughing with a grimace.
This was the kind of thing you just had to laugh at. What else were you supposed to do?
One side of the crater reached as far as the Soga Shrine. Hashiba could made out the red of the torii gate standing before the stone steps that led up to the shrine itself. It was teetering over the threshold, one of the wooden legs hanging over the edge, the other still lodged in the ground. The red gate looked like a staple holding two disparate worlds together.
The silence in the cab was becoming unbearable. Saeko had some confidence in her ability to make easy conversation even when meeting someone for the first time. It was awkward to share the confined space of a vehicle with another person in complete silence; usually she would have found a topic of conversation by now. But the moment the taxi departed, without excusing himself Isogai had sat back and pulled out his laptop as though announcing that he was not to be disturbed. Since then he had shown no interest in speaking or, for that matter, acknowledging her presence.
He just sat, tapping away at the keyboard, occasionally rubbing his fingers against his teeth as though lost in thought. Now and then he would grunt, pause for a moment, and then recommence typing with even more vigor. He was so focused that Saeko found it hard to interrupt. At the same time, she knew she couldn’t handle the silence anymore.
She had never come across anyone like this. People were at the very least polite towards her, strange men included. Saeko was becoming increasingly frustrated and angry. She didn’t mind that he was busy — that was fine — but he could have at least told her that he’d have to work on the journey. That was simply common courtesy, and she wouldn’t think twice about doing so herself. This man was just ignoring her completely, and she couldn’t help but feel annoyed at his complete lack of manners. Saeko pulled the file she had on him out of her bag. Two could play that game.
The night before, Hashiba had sent her a file with Isogai’s profile. It was quite long, so she’d printed it out and put it in her bag to read later. She made a show of putting the file on her lap and flipped it open. If he was going to ignore her, she might as well find out what type of person he was. She wondered what kind of background would give rise to such a stark lack of manners.