Page 39 of Kotori
The wall seems endless, curving around the vast property without any breaks. Then finally—there it is. A gate. Heavy wood and metal, traditional Japanese design but imposing in its solidity. It has to lead outside.
I rush toward it, fumbling with the handle, pushing and then pulling.
Locked. Of course it's locked.
I look around desperately. There has to be another way. The wall is too high to climb, especially with a suitcase. Maybe there's another gate.
I follow the perimeter further, moving away from the main house, deeper into the property. The landscaping becomes less formal here, more natural. I pass a small pond, a cluster of maple trees, what looks like a meditation garden.
And there—another gate. Smaller than the first, partially hidden by carefully placed shrubs. Service entrance, maybe?
I hurry toward it, hope rising. This one has a simple latch rather than an ornate handle. I lift it, push.
Nothing. It doesn't budge.
I push harder, throwing my shoulder against the solid wood. Still nothing. This gate is locked too, probably from the outside.
"Damn it!" I whisper, fighting back tears of frustration.
Wait—what's that? Beyond a stand of bamboo, I can see what looks like a maintenance shed. Maybe there are tools inside, something I could use to break the lock or climb the wall.
I abandon the suitcase temporarily, hiding it behind a large decorative rock, and make my way to the shed. It's utilitarian, out of place among the perfect aesthetics of the rest of the property. The door isn't even locked.
Inside, I find exactly what I'd hoped for—garden tools, ladders, equipment. I grab a short ladder and drag it back to the smaller gate. If I can just get high enough to reach the top of the wall...
I set up the ladder against the wall beside the gate, testing its stability. It seems solid. I start to climb, one rung at a time, my heart pounding in my throat.
I'm nearly at the top when I hear it—a soft electronic beep, then another. I look up to see a small black dome mounted on the wall. A security camera, its red light now blinking rapidly.
Before I can react, an alarm blares, high and piercing. Red lights flash from posts spaced along the wall.
I freeze for a split second, then scramble the rest of the way up the ladder. I have to at least see what's on the other side, know what I'm trying to reach.
My hands grasp the top of the wall, and I pull myself up enough to look over.
Forest. Dense Japanese forest stretches as far as I can see. No roads. No houses. Just wilderness. And directly below me, on theother side of the wall, a sheer drop of at least fifteen feet into a rocky drainage ditch.
Even if I could get over the wall, I'd likely break an ankle jumping down—assuming I could even make it through the wilderness beyond to find help.
The alarm continues to wail as I lower myself back down the ladder, defeat crushing me. This place isn't just a house—it's a fortress, designed to keep people in as much as keeping them out.
I've barely reached the ground when I hear them—footsteps, multiple sets, moving quickly through the garden toward me. Security guards, responding to the alarm.
Footsteps pound behind me. Multiple sets, moving fast.
"Williams-san!" A male voice, sharp with authority. Security.
I spin around, trapped between the wall and the approaching guards. Three of them, moving with purpose, faces grim.
"What are you doing?" One steps forward, hand extended like I'm a spooked animal. "Come back inside. The alarm is disturbing everyone."
"I—I needed some air," I stammer, clutching my suitcase like a shield.
Their eyes move to the suitcase, then back to my face. No one believes me.
"Please come inside, Williams-san. This door is for emergencies only."
They're being so polite. So careful. That somehow makes it worse than if they just grabbed me and dragged me back. This pretense that I have a choice when I clearly don't.
