The Gate of Sorrows

The Gate of Sorrows by Miyuki Miyabe

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Authors: Miyuki Miyabe
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
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reality things they do for TV.”
    But if someone wanted to shoot an episode of television on the roof, they would’ve notified Labbra Technofusion. Even if the plan was to do it without telling anyone in advance, that didn’t explain how the statue was transported to the roof. A crane? That was impossible; the whole neighborhood would’ve noticed.
    “Well, what do you think we should do?” Shigeru asked.
    “Watch and wait. That’s all we can do. If someone’s planning a location shoot, as you suggested, there’ll be more activity soon enough.”
    “I guess you’re right. No harm done so far.”
    “Tell Tae what’s going on and not to worry.”
    “I will. There’s a new statue, that’s all. I’ll tell her not to worry about that pole falling. She told me she’s too scared of the building to walk past it. When she goes shopping she takes the long way around. But—” Shigeru looked thoughtful. “She said the statue moves sometimes. What about that? She keeps saying it’s not her imagination.”
    “People’s eyes play tricks on them,” Shigenori was quick to answer. “Even when they’re completely confident, they still make mistakes. I’ve seen it happen hundreds of times.”
    “Really? I’ll tell her, then.” They both chuckled as Shigenori got up to go. But as he walked home alone, supported by his cane, he didn’t feel like laughing.
    Tae said the statue moved. Sometimes it even changed its pose. And it was warm. Shigenori was certain it hadn’t been heat from the sun.
    Oh, what a crock. Tae’s eyes were playing tricks on her. And the heat he’d felt was warmth from the sun.
    Okay, if we’re going to think foolish thoughts, how about this? If the statue can move by itself, we don’t need to worry about how it got to the roof. It got there by itself. All it had to do was spread its wings. Shigenori slapped his forehead with his free hand.
    Toshiko was waiting when he got back. “What did Shigeru want?”
    “Oh, nothing much.”
    Shigenori didn’t want to get into details. Instead he sat down at his laptop. He’d only been using a PC on a daily basis since his retirement. He was still learning. Searches were tricky; he had a hard time thinking of the most efficient search terms.
    Still, he managed to call up a selection of gargoyle images from around the world. The statue on the tea caddy building didn’t seem too special. It was an ordinary gargoyle.
    The sickle gave him more trouble. Entering the Japanese term returned a succession of fantasy weapons and tools. It took some effort before he found what he was looking for.
    Scythe . So that’s what it was called in English.
    A long-handled tool with a crescent-shaped blade. Originally the scythe was used for cutting grass or reaping crops, but sometimes also as a weapon. It became widespread among European peasant farmers in the late sixteenth century, and served them as a weapon when they were mobilized as soldiers. The scythe was never used as a weapon by regular troops.
    Shigenori’s eye stopped on the last sentence of the entry.
    The skeletal Grim Reaper, the personification of death, is never without his scythe.
    The gargoyle was armed with Death’s weapon of choice.
5
    After three days dredging textboards for Black Box Island, Kotaro took a day off to deal with classes he’d been skipping. When he got to work on the afternoon of the fifth day, Seigo told him he could go back to Drug Island. It was business as usual.
    “The police aren’t making progress and the net has quieted down.” The patrollers had come up empty. The media had moved on.
    “If you need help again, just let me know,” Kotaro said.
    “Will do.” Seigo nodded and peered at Kotaro, slightly concerned. “But forget that. Listen, Ko-Prime. Don’t get into this stuff too deep, okay?”
    “Do I look obsessed?”
    “Not exactly, but you look gloomy. Maybe all this depressing content is getting under your skin.”
    Perhaps the poison was having an effect

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