Free The Gate of Sorrows by Miyuki Miyabe

come to me sooner, you could’ve avoided years of unnecessary pain. The longer you leave this untreated, the longer it will take your nerves to recover after the operation.”
    What kind of medical condition is this? thought Shigenori. My legs are killing me but the problem’s in my back. He had never had back pain. He never dreamed that was where the problem might lie.
    There was another reason the surgeon had admonished him for not having a proper examination sooner. The hospital Toshiko had found after a determined search was indeed one of the top centers for treating spinal stenosis. To prove it, there was a long waiting list for the operation.
    “You’ll have to wait three to six months before a bed opens up,” the surgeon had told him.
    Now it was December and Shigenori was still waiting. He’d already quit his job with the supermarket. For the first time in his adult life, he was unemployed.
    Shigenori had had a job as long as he could remember. Now he had to find a different way of life, and he attacked the problem with the same tenacity he’d brought to his work. Housework, he discovered, was something he could get lost in. He found new hobbies. In the final years of his career, he’d spent a lot of time thinking about what he would do after leaving the force. He wanted to make life easier for Toshiko, who hadn’t had an easy time of it all these years. Maybe they should travel all over Japan. He could learn to cook, give her a chance to relax. He wasn’t allergic to the kitchen. He just hadn’t had a chance to cook since he was young.
    Now all these plans, or maybe dreams, were on hold. In police work, and not just detective work, patience was the number one requirement. Stamina and tenacity were no less important than courage. In that sense, Shigenori was an exceptional cop. He knew it, and the men he worked with knew it too.
    One more time.
    That was his motto during his years on the Edano Squad. It even became a byword for detectives in other units. When investigations were going nowhere and the search for witnesses couldn’t get off the ground, when there was no way to trace a piece of evidence back to the criminal, when everyone was ready to give up because further effort seemed pointless, Shigenori would say: One more time. Let’s interview the witnesses one more time. Let’s visit the crime scene one more time.
    And yet, and yet. Waiting endlessly like this, in his condition, was genuinely hard to bear. One more day. Hold on for one more day. Day after day, the accumulated weight of time pressed on his emotions like the displacement in his spine pressing on his nerves, gradually leaving him numb. Day after day, that look of impassive suffering began to wear on Toshiko too. Maybe things had been easier for her when he’d been busy and hardly ever home. The thought only made Shigenori more frustrated.
    With nothing to do all day, even minor tasks like cutting his nails were becoming tiresome. He listlessly tossed the balled-up newspaper in the trash, sat down heavily on the sofa and stared at the blue December sky outside the sliding doors to the balcony. Just as he was thinking that perhaps he should’ve gone for a walk after all, the wireless extension for the video intercom chimed. Toshiko had had the intercom installed so she could see who was at the door without getting up.
    Shigenori peered at the tiny screen. It was Shigeru Noro.
    “Good morning,” Shigeru said politely when Shigenori opened the door. “Sorry to trouble you this early. Something’s come up.”
    Shigeru was seventy-eight. He had been born and raised in Wakaba. Other than a few years of school in northern Japan, keeping out of harm’s way during the Pacific War, he’d been a fixture in the neighborhood. For many years he’d also been the head of the district association.
    “Come in, then.” Shigenori bent to get the guest slippers.
    “That’s all right, this will just take a minute,” said Shigeru cheerfully.