Even though, in terms of character, Sango is my fave, Miroku's chapter was a lot more fun to write! I think it has to do more with the location at the moment though, haha.
Many thanks to the wonderful Sassybratt9791 and her superior grasp on the English language (RIP high school classes lol). Please send her a review or two her way for her equally wonderful fics!
Miroku hadn't set foot in shrine grounds of any kind in ages—not for New Year's, not for Hanami, not even for his cousin's wedding. He thought that time heals all, but even so, the pain was a dull weight in his heart as he slammed the car door shut and made his way up the stone stairs.
Higurashi shrine was located in a curious position. Found right at the intersection of Ueno train station and Ueno Park's entrance, Miroku would've thought that he'd stepped into some secret forest temple given the amount of lush greenery threatening to spill onto the steps and brushing up close to the tops of the torii gates. From what he was able to check on his phone before heading out, it was just a short walk away from major sites such as the zoo, Tokyo University, and Tōshō-gū Shrine; prime cultural real estate. However, the fact that a large population of rough sleepers and homeless vagrants lived in the park and around the ponds dotting the area was enough to make more than a few nervous.
Crossing the final torii at the top of the stairs, Miroku surveyed the grounds with a detached eye. It was a rather spacious area: a smaller set of steps led up to a fenced, raised platform that housed the shrine complex; the leftwards portion held most of the shrine's buildings in a close clutch. The temizuya was backed right up against the fencing, and perpendicular to it lay a small haiden and the heiden running through it and linking it to the shamusho. The office, unlike the rest of the buildings in the complex, had an indigo gabled roof rather than a green one, and a glass door and window as well—a sign board announcing the sale of souvenirs and other trinkets was laid up by the door's side. The shrine's honden rose from behind the haiden, easily distinguished by the forked chigi at each end of the roof. A smaller adjacent building was also visible, but Miroku couldn't quite place what part it played in the shrine's workings.
A large courtyard separated a smaller structure, also featuring an indigo roof, from the rest of the buildings in the complex. It seemed rather shabby in comparison, and of an older style as well, but if the stone lanterns and the modest pair of massha that seemed to be guarding it were any indication, it too was of importance in the history of the shrine.
Finally, there was the tree. Like any self-respecting shrine of certain age, it was in possession of a venerable old tree whose sanctity was made obvious by the shimenawa rope wrapped around its trunk as well as the fencing separating it from the pavement. A wooden plaque—no doubt explaining the history of the tree and the kami it might be housing—stood next to it, but it was the deep notch gouged out from the trunk's wood that caught Miroku's eye. It seemed like a wound, almost.
Something about it struck a deep sense of sadness into him.
"Heeeeeeey!" a female voice rang out from behind.
Startled by the shout, Miroku turned to see his team panting and wheezing their way up the stairs; he was so absorbed with his self-pity that he'd completely forgotten about them all.
"I-Ishida-san," Takeda gasped when he finally made it to the top. "You c-certainly seemed to be in a h-hurry."
"Ah. My apologies. I don't know what came over me," Miroku said vaguely.
"I'll say!" That was Kuwatani, the source of the shouting. She was helping Kai, pulling her up since the steep pitch of the hillside the steps were built on had taken its toll on the frailer woman. In spite of the fine wet sheen highlighting the curve of her brow, Kuwatani had a broad smile on her face, and her words had a laughing lilt to them. "You made it up here in record time without breaking a sweat! You don't look tired at all! What's your secret? I'd love to know."
Well. Her female colleagues back at the precinct had given him a rather frosty welcome the day before, but Kuwatani—she seemed rather amenable to his presence. Whether it was because she wasn't part of their social circle and thus not privy to their gossip about him, or was in on it and simply didn't care, Miroku did not know…but he certainly wasn't complaining. Forcing the heaviness out of his heart and lifting the side of his mouth in what he knew was a winningly crooked smile, Miroku chuckled. "I've always made it a point to stay in shape, but I'd be happy to have a gym partner to spot me. It gets a little lonely sometimes."
"Ah, wait." Kai, who was previously holding herself up on her knees and rendered speechless by her panting, now stood at full attention to signal to beyond the fencing. "Someone's coming."
The teenager was wearing a soccer sweat suit typical of a high school student, but the bright pink sneakers were something that Miroku wasn't quite expecting—youth fashion these days, he reasoned. He suddenly felt old.
"You must be the police." The kid phrased it more as a statement than a question.
Takeda nodded and extracted his badge and ID from the lining of his smart blazer, letting the younger male inspect them carefully before returning them. "My name is Takeda Kuranosuke and we're here from Shinjuku's eighth precinct." He bowed politely.
"Ishida Miroku. I'm heading this team for today's interrogations." Miroku was peeved that Takeda had taken the initiative and presented himself first; it's not as though it was a huge deal to him, but Miroku would have preferred to establish his role in the investigation early on.
"Oh, if we're doing introductions, I guess it's our turn!" Kuwatani smiled cheerfully. "I'm Kuwatani Shima."
Kai's bow was impeccably straight, an obvious product of years of good breeding. "Kai Tsuyu. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"I'm Sōta," the teen replied. "We were all expecting you just about now, so I'll take you over to the house." Without further ado, he turned on his heel and began walking towards the office at a brisk pace.
"Um…okay?" Kuwatani blinked at the abruptness of the exchange.
"Poor boy," Kai sighed. "He must be feeling so stressed over what happened to his sister…that's probably it."
They followed Sōta as he slid open the door to the shamusho and he stood aside to let them all pass. They waited patiently as he fished a set of keys out from his pockets—the keychain, with a carefully polished jewel hanging from the chain, caught Miroku's eye. The gift shop they were passing through had a display selling more of those, and he saw that they were a pinkish sort of amethyst.
Sōta repeated the process of locking the door behind them as they took a back exit out of the building. They were now in the shrine's inner complex, with the honden's roof shading them from the increasingly stronger rays of the morning sun. Sōta continued on his way with nary a single word, not even a sound, directed at any of them, which was somewhat unnerving to Miroku; he was very much accustomed to small talk, as it let him gather clues that let him get ahold over what sort of people he was dealing with. Silence was as big an indicator of personality as chattiness was, but he was very much the small talk type.
They were now approaching another section of fencing, with two torii on either side (making for a total of four, Miroku noted to himself) to separate the shrine from the house just beyond the fencing. It was a quaint, two storey building with whitewashed walls, blue-green tiled roofing, and green shutters on the windows. One of the rooms on the second floor had a modestly sized balcony all to itself; he guessed that it was most likely the main bedroom.
Miroku would have very much liked to have grown up in a house like that.
"They're here," Sōta announced to the air as they entered the house and began taking their shoes off in the genkan. He turned to the team. "Would anyone like something?"
"Tea is fine, thanks." Miroku made sure to beat Takeda to the punch this time.
"I'll go tell my mother and she'll make some," Sōta mumbled. For the first time since meeting, Miroku took a good, hard look at him. Though the kid sort of hid his face by glancing off to a side at a slight angle, preventing a full view of his face, Miroku could discern a tell-tale puffiness and redness around his eyes.
He looked so very, very tired.
"Ah, Sōta," a woman's voice called from within the house. Its owner emerged just a few seconds later: though middle-aged, she was still an undeniable beauty, and had attractive features such as exotic, wavy hair styled into a fashionable bob, and a finely boned face. Miroku's ears turned warm as he immediately began planning the best way to charm the lady of the house. "Thank you for fetching them," she said, touching her son's shoulder gently.
"They said they'd like some tea," he responded dully.
"Alright. I'll put the kettle on for us."
"Hmmm. I'll be down soon for it." Sōta reached for her hand in a brief squeeze, and then dropped it as he left the party and began climbing the stairs to the second floor. His steps had a heavy, sluggish cadence to them.
Mrs. Higurashi sighed. "He was up all night talking to his grandfather on the phone. He came back this week from the hospital—because of a urinary infection—but the stress over what…what happened to Kagome…gave him a heart attack once we got the news. So back to the hospital he went."
Miroku's plans fizzled out in his brain immediately. While he could never deny that he was very much a ladies' man, it would be in terribly poor taste to try and put the moves on Mrs. Higurashi while the family was grieving for their missing daughter. His charms would have to wait.
Takeda, looking terribly concerned, placed his hand right over his heart. "We're all very sorry to hear that, Higurashi-san."
"And we thank you for it," Higurashi replied with a wan smile. "You're here to help us, and we're very grateful for it. Please, come in—I'll have the tea ready for you all in just a moment."
God dammit, Miroku gave Takeda the stink-eye in his thoughts as they were led to a traditional five-tatami living room and seated around the chabudai whilst Mrs. Higurashi went to prepare the tea. Why's he acting like the team leader? That's literally my job. I'm supposed to be the one giving condolences here.
The team began preparing themselves for the questioning as their host busied herself in the kitchen, unzipping their bags open for the necessary tools: recorders, pens, pencils, and notepads. As some of their utensils were not the standard police-issued office supplies, Miroku could get a basic grasp on their personalities from them. He began taking mental notes on the subject:
Kuwatani—standard-issue briefcase, but with a few Pokémon keychains hanging from the straps. Kurutoga mechanical pencil and erasable ballpoint pen from the Pokémon Skytree Center. Matching Pokémon-themed notepad which was somewhat scrunched up from being carelessly tossed into her bag rather than being carefully placed inside, no doubt. Somewhat scatterbrained and childish, but ultimately fun-loving.
Kai—standard precinct briefcase and notepad, but her pens were of a pretty floral variety; not terribly expensive looking, but certainly gave off an air as though she went out of her way to buy them somewhere nice. Sony audio recorder in a sleek silver and white presentation. She came off as sensible, if a little boring, with tastes leaning towards the softly feminine.
Takeda—now this example ticked Miroku off. His pens were these slick, pricey looking fountain pens with silver caps, and though his notepad was, like Kai's, issued from the precinct, it was housed in a snug black leather case with a built-in pen holster. His bag was of the same buttery black leather and came with a tag like those made for luggage. The guy even brought an iPad with him, with a custom made case for it featuring the same damned leather. Miroku would've thought an important businessman was making a house call instead of a cop, and the display of such professional, fashionable looking wealth was deeply irritating. What the hell kind of salary did he have to be able to buy those kinds of things?
Miroku snuck a brief glance to his own items—all straight from the precinct supply office, and with a beat-up duffel bag to go with them. He wasn't quite sure what that said about him other than the fact that he was most definitely not rolling in cash like Takeda clearly was.
Mrs. Higurashi returned from the kitchen shortly after, bearing a lacquered tray with steaming cups of green tea. A small plate of cute, fox shaped cookies was placed in the centre of the table to go with their drinks, and Kuwatani exclaimed delightedly when she saw them.
"Please, go ahead. I do hope it's to your tastes."
"Thank you very much, Higurashi-san," Miroku bowed his head politely.
Mrs. Higurashi returned the nod and sat seiza as she watched the group set up their tools and occasionally partake of their snacks. She turned carefully to the shōji; Sōta opened it just a second later, barefoot, in fresh clothes, and rubbing a towel through his shower-dampened hair. The tiredness, however, was still present in his eyes.
"Alright," Mrs. Higurashi said as her son sat down next to her. "Shall we begin?"
"Of course." Takeda was just finishing unlocking his iPad and had opened the camera app to start recording the session. "However, protocol dictates that interrogations should be conducted separately—to avoid witnesses suggesting anything towards one another and to keep testimonies consistent."
"I would rather keep my son here with me."
Though her words were not unkind, there was stern firmness to Mrs. Higurashi's face that brooked no argument. A brief, tense silence blanketed the room as the team tried to figure out what to do without coming across as insensitive or, god forbid, rude.
"Then he can stay," Miroku seized the chance to reassert his authority. "I think protocol can be relaxed in circumstances like these."
Mrs. Higurashi said nothing, but inclined her head slightly in thanks—the gesture warmed Miroku's ears again. Takeda gave Miroku a questioning glance but stayed mercifully quiet as he pressed his iPad's screen to start recording. The team sat, poised with pens at the ready, waiting for the first question to fly.
Miroku noticed Takeda's mouth started to open, so he hurried to cut him off. "Could you tell us what everyone was doing the day of the incident?"
Fine lines wrinkled Mrs. Higurashi's brow as she contemplated her answer. "Well…it was a typical Friday, I suppose. Sōta was at school, I was doing housework, and Grandpa was at the office helping a couple of visitors. He…he was the first one to get the news, actually. He got a phone call from your station, I believe, and…well, it was a good thing he wasn't alone. The woman of the couple stayed with him while her husband came running to the house to get me. And from there we called an ambulance."
"I didn't find out until school finished," Sōta's voice was rough. "I was planning on taking a few friends home but ma picked me up in a cab and we went to the hospital."
Pens scratched swiftly against paper as the team jotted that all down. Takeda was clearly dying to go next, but the petty part of Miroku pushed him to move first again. "Was there anything unusual about your daughter's attitude the days before it happened? Anything strange or out of the ordinary with her and her husband?"
Mrs. Higurashi and Sōta exchanged a very brief, blink-and-you'll-miss-it look that had Miroku wondering. "Not anything that we can think of."
"We heard that they fought often. What did they fight over? Was there any indication of their conflicts having turned violent? Were tensions high over anything? How would you characterise their relationship?"
"No." Sōta frowned deeply and his knuckles turned white with how hard he was clenching his hand; he was offended, Miroku realised. His team seemed to have noticed it too, if the quick glances they shared were of any indication. "They'd fight over things like rent, work, or sometimes Inuyasha would complain about Kagome's cooking. Dumb things. But not anything serious. And their marriage is fine."
The naïveté behind those words was kind of sad, really. Rent and issues over money were always serious—one of the most common sources of marital discord, in his experience. And if not, even tiny things could just keep on piling up and gathering pressure until they spiralled out of control and turned into something huge and irrevocably damaging.
Nothing in their line of work was ever so simple.
"Did they say that they were having issues over anything else? Problems at work or something like that?"
"No. Inuyasha doesn't really like to talk about work in the first place because he says it's tiring and there's not much to it other than heavy lifting. Kagome though, she loved—loves her job. She talks about it all the time and sometimes she brings the kids over to spend the day at the park, the zoo, or just hang out here with us."
Miroku hummed to himself as he wrote that all down. "I understand that Kagome-san works as a sort of social worker at an orphanage?"
"I wouldn't call her a social worker. More like a caretaker. She makes their food for them, helps with homework, cleaning up the place, keeping track of medication for the ones who needs it…stuff like that."
Kuwatani tapped her pen thoughtfully against her lips, which had cookie crumbs scattered around as evidence of her lack of restraint. Then again…those cookies were pretty damn good. "I'm not understanding much, though. Kagome-san and Inuyasha-san work fairly standard jobs, live in a not-so-great-part of town, and seemed to have lived pretty average lives. And what happened to Kagome-san…it was violent. Too violent, even." She grabbed another cookie and thoughtlessly talked through her chewing. "It's not uncommon for break-ins to happen during the day, when most people are out at work, but what kind of criminal would fight a homeowner instead of taking the chance to run away? How desperate could they have been to stay behind and draw blood when they were found out?"
"Oh, that's a good point," Kai got that all down on her notepad. "And even then, their apartment is in a rather shabby part of the city, like you said. It's not as though it's uncommon knowledge. It seems a little odd that a thief would risk exposing themselves in broad daylight just for quick cash, and it's not as though they would've gotten much out of it anyways."
"And," Takeda added, "why would Higurashi-san disappear?"
Miroku shot his a not so subtle warning glare over their thoughtlessly indiscreet comments, and they looked appropriately sheepish, but the damage was already done: Sōta look down and away, brows pinched and hands clenched. His mother squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.
The only sound in the room was the ticking of the analog clock on the wall as a million questions swirled through the air. Why indeed. The thread the team was pursuing had yet to become untangled, frustratingly enough, and the current line of questioning hadn't done much to help. Why were the Higurashis targeted like that? Did some thug who was hard up for cash happen to choose their apartment at random? Did they stake the place out and conclude that theirs was the easiest to ransack?
None of that really answered why Higurashi Kagome was spirited away right from under her neighbours' noses.
Mrs. Higurashi sighed; the sound was heavy and forlorn, underscoring what was undoubtedly the deep pain she was feeling over her missing daughter. She spared a long glance at the analog clock on the wall before turning to the police with a thoughtful, yet determined set to her eyes.
"I think," she said slowly, "that now is the time for you all to take a look at this."
Sōta was the first to rise, and helped his mother up from her uncomfortable position. The two waited patiently as the team realised they were expected to follow them, and they left the sitting room in single file to head up to the second floor.
Miroku spared a glance to the washing machine and dryer outside of what was most likely the bathroom as the group walked down the hallway. The doors were all Western-style with knobs instead of traditional shōji screens; Mrs. Higurashi opened the middle door to reveal her daughter's bedroom.
It was cute, in a rather typical teenage girl way: the five tatami room had Western furniture such as a raised bed, a wheeled chair to sit on while studying at the desk, a toy chest full of stuffed animals, and a vanity with a small pouf seat. The room's colours were also very feminine, featuring varying shades of lavender, pink, and white, with the exception of the glaringly orange pocket organiser hanging from one of the curtains and the green tatami. Even the doorknob was pink, in the form of a soft felt cap covering it—most likely to keep it clean or something of the sort.
"Kagome stored all her work here," Mrs. Higurashi told them as she padded over to the desk. "At first she had a laptop, but when things got too serious, she decided to keep it all on paper in case she needed to burn anything."
Kuwatani did a double take. "Wait—'things got too serious'? Burn things? Higurashi-san, just what the heck was your daughter up to?"
"Newspaper club," Mrs. Higurashi replied as she took out a series of fat binders, notebooks, and newspaper clipping albums from the desk's drawers.
It was then that Miroku noticed something peculiar about the room's decorations: while there were the usual band posters on a wall and framed pictures of family and friends on the desk and nightstand, the corkboards and whiteboard looked something more like from their office. The whiteboard had a hastily rubbed out timetable, now illegible, but the phone numbers written down were for places Miroku recognised as nearby photography and computer lesson businesses. The corkboard had pictures of Tokyo streets and buildings, along with pictures of men that looked as though they were screenshots; they were linked together with orange thread and had post-it notes under them as though they were paintings catalogued by a museum. Additionally, there were maps of Tokyo and Japan that had certain parts coloured in red, and with more of the little post-its dotting them.
Miroku pointed to them all. "You mind if we take a closer look at these?"
Mrs. Higurashi only glanced briefly back at him. "Not at all. In fact…I think you'd want to take this all with you."
Kai and Kuwatani shared a troubled look, and the former excused herself to go fetch some latex gloves she'd brought in her bag. She came back soon enough and distributed the gloves to the team, and the little room was full of the sound of latex snapping on skin before they got to collecting what was now a sizeable pile of evidence.
"Higurashi-san," Takeda ventured cautiously. "When you said your daughter was in the newspaper club…what did you mean by it? All of this doesn't look like regular reporting on cultural festivals or anything even remotely school related."
It was then that Sōta, who'd been waiting outside in the hall, came in. Though he still looked tired, there was a determined set to his jaw.
"She joined the club at first because couldn't find any that were as interesting to her as archery, and she thought that she'd quit it at first." He swallowed thickly. "But she changed her mind when she saw that the school wasn't doing much to solve a lot of its problems. So she said that if they weren't, then she'd shame them into fixing them."
"What kind of problems?"
"At first, it started off with things like the school turning a blind eye to things like…like bullying." Sōta bit his lip. "Then Kagome found out about other things like a teacher selling test sheets, and another one in a relationship with a student."
Miroku sucked in a breath. Bullying was one thing—all schools had to deal it with it one way or another—but those other two incidents were certainly enough to at least make the local news. Scandals like teachers fooling around with their students and making money off of selling the answers to exams would have surely put more than a few administrators' heads on the chopping block to save face. "But how did she go from reporting on the school's dirty laundry to—to whatever this is?" he gestured to the binders and notebooks.
"She was threatened with expulsion and having the club disbanded if she continued her reporting."
Everyone in the room turned to look at Mrs. Higurashi. Her finely wrinkled eyes had turned resolute, yet sadly soft. She held out the pile of binders to the police with a firmness that belied her sadness to part with her daughter's hard-collected notes and pictures and handwriting—her daughter in essence, now that she had been taken from her family. "They were more concerned with not rocking the boat and staying out of the news. I don't even think they really cared about what was going on as long as it stayed inside the school." Mrs. Higurashi delicately wiped the sides of her eyes, and her son went to her to hold her arm reassuringly. "And…Kagome said she wouldn't give up. That she couldn't just stop exposing how others were being hurt like that."
"And what did her husband think?" Miroku asked pointedly.
Mrs. Higurashi, to their surprise, let out a light chuckle.
"They used to fight over it," Sōta answered for his mother. "He used to be pretty mean about it and said it was pointless at first, and that she really couldn't expect to fix a lot of things as a teenager." His words, however negative, were very fondly spoken towards his brother in-law; Miroku made a mental note of that. "But he always stuck by her, and it was pretty obvious that it grew on him, in the end. I think he really came to—well, I wouldn't say enjoy—feel satisfied about the work. I mean, who wouldn't? Busting bad guys and helping others out is bound to feel pretty good."
"He grew up with such a rough life, poor thing." Mrs. Higurashi was also apparently nothing but sympathetic. "In his circumstances, I think seeing justice being served ought to have felt cathartic, even."
The officers had set the notebooks and albums down on the bed briefly to get down as much testimony as they could. "Oh, but you were saying, Higurashi-san, about her continuing the newspaper club even after the warning from the school. From the clippings I'm able to see, these are about local crime like robberies. Not very school related at all," Kai pointed out.
"Well, the first case was school related, in a way," Mrs. Higurashi mused. "A classmate of theirs was worried because his father's business was losing money to some local thugs scaring off customers. When Inuyasha and Kagome got to the bottom of it, it turned out that the ringleader was the son of a rival business owner."
The team shared looks—this was certainly getting somewhere interesting. Perhaps their victim, who had apparently been quite the sleuth, had unfinished business with someone. Someone who kept grudges.
Still, Miroku couldn't quite help his continuing suspicions towards her husband. Her family seemed to like him just fine, but even so…
"We'll be taking this back to the precinct with us to comb through all the evidence. If we have any further questions, we'll be in touch," Takeda said apologetically and bowed at a perfect 45 degree angle from his waist. "Thank you both for your cooperation. We'll be taking all of this back with us to the precinct." He gestured to the piles of notebooks. "While we are very sorry for your daughter, we promise to do everything in our power to find her and return her safely to you."
"Thank you, officer."
The now familiar sense of jealousy flared up inside Miroku. He was supposed to be the charming one, dammit, and some rich guy with custom-made leather goods was stealing his thunder! Noble demeanour or not, Takeda most certainly did not have the right to go around speaking as though he were the team leader. Miroku thought of some last-ditch ways to reassert himself before they left the shrine.
"Just a moment, Higurashi-san," he mentally cursed himself for sounding a bit too eager. "Can I ask how many people were part of this famous club? Perhaps they can be of some help to shed light on our investigation."
Mrs. Higurashi's brow furrowed, thinking. "Well, besides Kagome and Inuyasha…three others. Two boys and a girl."
"Might we have their names?"
"Yes—though I apologise, it's been a while since we've last seen them. Hōjō-kun was the first to join after Inuyasha and Kagome, though it was fairly obvious he did it because of Kagome…then came Minami-kun and Ayame-chan. Kagome's other friends tried to join at first, to be supportive, but Kagome warned them away from it."
"Would you happen to have their contact information? Phone numbers, email, maybe even social media?"
She bowed her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, I don't recall saving any numbers of theirs, and I'm certainly not the internet type. Maybe Sōta knows…?"
"Sorry," her son grimaced. "I don't follow them online."
"Oh well. I can try to find something that can help us…maybe Kagome's old cell phone is still around here somewhere."
Checking his watch, Miroku signalled the team to start moving out, taking extra care with their newly acquired piles of evidence. The Higurashis offered them more tea and snacks before they left, but the officers declined, citing time. They graciously offered to help them down the long staircase and back out to the street, but again, the team refused, and soon had the books packed snugly into some boxes they had on hand in the trunk of the patrol car.
"Thank you for your help, officers." She bowed to them with a grace that belied her grief, well-hidden as it was. "Please call us soon. We would very much like to keep in touch and see how the case is going so far."
"We are doing everything we can to help, Higurashi-san," Kai said. "Should anything new come up, you are definitely the first people we will contact." She handed the pair a card with the precinct's mascot and phone numbers printed on before she returned the bow and slid into the car's back seat.
After the others had said their goodbyes, Miroku also gave the Higurashis his best impression of Takeda's bow; despite his envious feelings, Miroku felt guilty about not having been on better behaviour in front of such an obviously kind and caring woman. He wanted her to have a high opinion of him. "Rest assured that we will meet again soon, Higurashi-san. There is still much to talk about."
"See you all soon, then. Please be careful on your way back." They exchanged more polite bowing before Miroku took his place in the passenger seat.
"Be careful." Sōta, who'd been rather quiet since coming down from his sister's room, warned. "Sis often bit off more than she could chew. Even if you're all police, the people she reported on never played nice."
Exchanging troubled glances at the boy's words, the team said nothing as they drove away.
Aaaand there we go! Miroku's POV is done, and new characters make their (direct and indirect) debuts!
A few notes:
Ueno Park is a very pleasant part of Tokyo that houses a zoo, the Tokyo National Museum (focusing Japanese art and general Asian art from Pakistan to China), the National Museum of Western Art (which is one of the few museums outside of France to possess copies of August Rodin's casts of The Thinker and The Gates of Hell), several historic Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples (Ueno Tōshō-gū is dedicated to Tokugawa Ieyasu, though the term refers to many other such places where Ieyasu is enshrined) and other similar locations. Ueno is also some 20 minutes away from Tokyo University, which makes it a very busy spot indeed. However, many homeless people have set up shop, so to speak, in the area since the economy plateaued in the 90s. They do so because it's far cleaner and safer than notorious homeless encampments like San'ya. Not to say that San'ya is a cesspool; it's tame compared to other slum-like areas of the world, but it's still quite different to spend a night of sleeping in a beautiful, well-kept park compared to a rough and cramped inner city neighbourhood.
I know I've recommended My Life in Japan's series on Japanese homelessness in the previous chapter, but the University of Pittsburgh and Al-Jazeera also have interesting write-ups on the subject.
Onto the Higurashi Shrine; because I'm a pedant, it's interesting to note that, while the manga's translation of "Sunset Shrine" is the closest, it's not really the most common usage of the term. "Higurashi" refers most often to a type of cicada-fans of the eponymous horror series will note this. "Shrine of the Clear-Toned Cicada" isn't quite as punchy as "Sunset Shrine," but luckily, Higurashi can be used to refer to a sunset. While 蜩 is the most common usage of the word and is a single term, the composite homonym used as Kagome's family name, 日暮, contains the kanji for day/sun (hi) and the kanji for a certain period of time (gure). "Higure/Higurashi" can then be read as sunset/twilight, when cicadas are most commonly heard. Interestingly enough, "gure" is also present as a kanji is several other words, and the kun and on readings of those words refer to living frugally, the end of a year, and depressing phrases such as "to be overtaken in darkness" and "to spend one's days in tears and sorrow." It is a term that refers to endings and bleakness, and making your livelihood-often by eking your way through life.
(Thanks and for the translations!)
The laundry list of terms about the shrine refers to features of Shinto shrines: a temizuya/chōzuya is a little pavilion for washing your hands and mouth before entering the shrine complex, similar to the Muslim custom of washing your feet before entering a mosque; a haiden is generally a worship hall or oratory; the heiden is used for rituals and to store offerings; the honden is connected to the haiden via the heiden and is the main hall that houses the kami of the shrine and is generally closed to the public; the shamusho is the office that supervises the shrine; chigi are the forked finials on the roofs of shrines and are commonly paired with billets called katsuogi, and are features exclusive to Shinto structures; massha are mini shrines "entrusted" to proper shrines due to a shared connection to the shrine kami.
And finally, the tree. Contrary to popular thought, the Goshiboku's name…isn't "Goshinboku". It's actually a title. Shinboku (read as 神木) literally means "sacred tree," and is the term given to trees that are considered, well, sacred. Go in this case is a suffix that means "honourable," and it's attached to honourifics and titles to denote great respect. The tree's official title is then translated as "most honourable sacred tree." Shinboku are part of a category in Shintoism called yorishiro: sacred objects with the ability to attract kami. Firmly emphasising the animist nature of Shintoism, yorishiro are often living things-trees, people-and their purpose is to attract kami and other spirits into a physical space so that humans can then worship them. A yorishiro that becomes inhabited is then turned into a shintai, becoming divine itself rather than just a vessel for something divine. Yorishiro are said to harken back to the earliest days of Shinto, when the earliest temples were often groves of trees, and then had temples built around them or even just one tree or to store an item said to be a yorishiro. Some famous examples of the latter are the three national treasures of Japan. To show others that a tree is sacred, shimenawa-rope made of rice paper or hemp-is wrapped around the tree.
Shinboku can also be read to mean the pillars that support festival bonfires, or, in its 親睦 writing, as "friendship."
To wrap things up, just a few little notes on Shima's stuff: the stationary I described can be bought at the Tokyo Skytree, which has its own Pokémon center, often with Rayquaza themed merch to reflect the tower's status as a popular lookout point. The pen I had in mind for her is a 2016 exclusive that could only be bought on July of that year to celebrate the grand opening of the Skytree Pokémon Center and has Rayquaza featured with poncho Pikachu. The mechanical pencil I had in mind is a blue-green Pikachu version sold by the Kurutoga company as part of a special 2015 campaign. Why all this? Because I decided to make Shima an otaku.
Until next time ;)