Chapter 1: The Rule of the Idol 1 THE RULE OF THE IDOL AS THE WIND was blowing, I pulled the collar of my coat tighter. Dropping my eyes from the sky, I noticed a boy standing beside me on the tree-lined street that until now had been totally empty. "Manami Hirase?" Surprised to hear my name, my reply got caught in my throat. I tried to say, "Yes, that''s me," but instead took a sharp breath, causing the boy to step back. I''d never got off the train before at this station on the Toei Shinjuku Line. Exit three, as I was told. The fast-food restaurant beside the station exit was dark, maybe because there were too few customers in a business district on a Sunday. It was also the only real landmark in the area.
I''d been watching cars whiz past on the main road for a while now. Wait, when did he get here? "Yes, that''s me." I''d been waiting in this spot for the past half hour. But the person I''d been on the lookout for, the person I imagined I''d be meeting today, was much older. I looked closely at the boy. I thought for a moment that he might have brought somebody with him, but he appeared to be alone. Was he about high-school age? He held a tattered notebook in one hand, and had the air of a cool, hip kid. His hair wasn''t dyed, and he had no piercings, but something about his face and build made him seem more refined than the boys from my own high-school days.
He was lean and tall. His navy duffel coat was lined with chic checkered material at the cuffs and hood and had leather patches on the shoulders. It looked like it could be a designer coat. He was the kind of boy I could never go up to, if we were the same age. "Um." My words froze on the tip of my tongue. "Shall we go?" he said. I was still trying to wrap my head around the situation.
As the boy started walking off, I said, "Um, are you standing in for someone? I--" "I''m the go-between." He turned toward me with a slightly exasperated look. "I''m not a stand-in. I''m the go-between. You''ll be talking to me." "I--I heard that you could arrange meetings." "I can," the boy said as he tried to put the notebook into his shoulder bag. The bag, the coat.
Everything he wore was effortless and stylish, suggesting "city boy." Only the tatty notebook in his hand seemed out of place. "I bring together the living and the departed," he said in a solemn voice, enunciating his words. "I am the go-between." I listened in a daze to the echo of his words, canceling out the noise around us, including the cars zooming past. HE LED ME to a large hospital about a ten-minute walk away from our meeting spot. Was it newly built? There were no visible marks on the cream-colored walls and floors; it all felt bright and airy. But why a hospital? Was somebody staying here, and was he taking me to see them? I was full of questions that I was too scared to ask, so I kept my mouth shut.
This being a Sunday, the place was brimming with visitors. A young couple with a child, a group of chatty teens who were maybe visiting a friend. Wading through the crowd, I thought about how we must look together and felt increasingly self-conscious. A good-looking teenager who I was sure would fall in the "hot" category in the eyes of his peers, walking next to a plain woman about ten years his senior. I was still in my twenties, but to him I was probably as good as middle-aged. Mature was the word people often used to describe me, a term disguised as a compliment that only reminded me that I looked old for my age. He led me down a hallway that smelled of medicines and sanitizer. Moving confidently, as if he owned the place, he made his way into the cafeteria.
One wall had floor-to-ceiling windows, and at the far end was a door leading out to a courtyard. Through the window, I could see patients dressed in blue gowns on their outdoor strolls. Some were accompanied by visitors, others sat alone in their wheelchairs. "Will this spot work for you?" There was a chill in the air, but the sun kept me from feeling too cold. "Yes," I nodded. I took a seat on an empty bench while the boy went back into the cafeteria, returning moments later with a paper cup in each hand. "Here you go," he said, handing me a lightly colored green tea. I turned toward the cafeteria and saw a free tea dispenser inside.
"Thanks," I said. I couldn''t think of anything else to say. A hospital courtyard and self-service tea were not what I''d pictured when I thought about a meeting with the go-between. I was wearing a cheap tweed suit I''d bought for formal events at work. Thinking about the fancy outfit I had on under my black coat, I felt both relieved and a touch deflated. I''d fished it out from the back of the closet today, figuring it would be appropriate for any five-star restaurant setting. "How did you hear about the go-between?" He didn''t sit down, instead resting one foot on the low fence in front of the lawn. His eyes were boring into me, making me shrink even further.
I instinctively averted my gaze and then, realizing I hadn''t looked anybody in the eye recently, felt myself flushing from the neck up. "It was online. I met some people who introduced me to some other people, and then some others, and so on." My online acquaintances said I wouldn''t need to give specifics, and the boy didn''t ask any more. I took a deep breath. I''d jumped through hoops to get to where I was today, spending more money than I''d expected to along the way. I''d been swindled out of cash because I couldn''t tell the authentic sources from the fakes. Though the question of legitimacy still loomed, this was the first time I''d been able to get the go-between''s contact information at all.
If the boy in front of me was, in fact, the real thing, I''d attribute it to luck and nothing more. Half of me had been ready to throw in the towel and the other half had thought, whatever, who cares if it''s a scam. Sandwiched in the crevices between the two urges was a part of me that wanted to believe. "I thought you were some kind of urban legend," I said, and he glanced over at me as he blew on his drink. Seeing that the tea was as hot for him as it was for me made him seem human. "I didn''t think I''d actually get to meet you." "How familiar are you with the rules?" There was a mysterious calm to the boy''s voice, making me feel like I was the younger of the two. I felt my confidence wane again.
But I''d already come this far. "I get the gist of them. But, um, is it true? That you can talk to people who have died?" "I can bring them to you," he said shortly. He sounded almost impatient. "If you''re picturing something like the mediums of Mount Osore, you''d be wrong. I don''t let dead spirits possess my body or receive messages to pass on. I set up a meeting between you and the deceased person you wish to see. I''m strictly the go-between.
" "That''s what I''ve heard. Some people say you''re a famous organization that goes way back?" "Organization," he mumbled to himself. Was I totally off-base? But the boy didn''t seem put out. "You''re not.?" "Let''s stick to the facts. First, the go-between receives a request from a living person, someone like you. You tell me about the person in your life who has passed away. I take your request back with me and present it to the departed.
I confirm whether they''re interested in seeing you as well. If they give their consent, I set up the meeting." "Right." That was the work of a go-between. I wondered how long they''d been around. When I first heard about them, I remember thinking that they did sound a lot like the Mount Osore mediums the boy had just mentioned. I''d heard numerous accounts of big-name politicians getting advice from notable historical figures with the help of a go-between, and celebrities having teary encounters with friends who''d died too young. Stories like those were passed from person to person like fairy tales for adults--no doubt laughed off by many.
But for those in the know, the go-between was a normal presence, about as common as rumors of moguls and stars paying large amounts of money to keep a psychic or astrologer on hand. Whether somebody can find their way to a go-between depends on three factors. One, that you know they exist, two, that you believe they exist, and three, luck. "What exactly does it mean for you to ''set up a meeting''?" He looked at me as if to say, You came to me without even knowing that? "I mean, once somebody has died," I said, "they no longer exist as physical bodies, obviously. And if the funeral is over, they''ve been cremated and buried." "They will appear looking as they did in life." He placed his paper cup on the bench and took out the notebook again. Lowering his gaze, he started to explain as if reading off the page.
"The spirit of the deceased is permitted to take on a physical form when in the meeting location designated by the go-between. The living person can see them, of course, and also reach out to touch them." "I can''t believe it," I whispered. He shot me another look. "How is that possible?" "Isn''t that why you came to me?" His voice grew sharper. "Why do you need to know how it works? You get to see this person. You''ll meet.