The evening found me wandering the trails near Uruhattan Falls, a place that I often came to think, to relax and sometimes just to watch people. I liked being asked to take pictures of people with their own cameras - it felt like I was part of their family or tour, for a minute. The falls were beautiful, especially as the weather had been so good, and this night there were few other people around. I sat on a bench and listened to the music of the falling water. I didn’t notice my eyes were closed until they popped open at a loud noise nearby. Yawning, I sat up and stretched, drawing attention from the obatarian next me. She scowled and turned away. I mentally stuck my tongue out at her, and got up to take a walk and get the blood flowing. It had been a long day. That afternoon, Nikki had handed me a manila envelope, thick with papers. She said it had been delivered about ten minutes previously, while I had been on the phone. I thanked her and after she had closed the office door, opened the envelope. Inside was an accordion folder with neatly labeled divisions, and a note folded into a handmade paper envelope. Nice local touch, I thought. The note was brief, and neatly written. Here is all the paperwork I have to date. The missing person’s name is Tenjou Utena. Please call me if you have any questions. Terse, to the point. I found myself liking Himemiya Anshi more and more. She certainly didn’t beat around the bush – and there aren’t many women like that. She didn’t look any older than I did, but her manner was that of a more mature, older woman – one who has seen many things and isn’t going to waste too much time on them. I wondered who she was and why she hadn’t been able to find this friend of hers. She seemed to have considerable resources. "Tenjou Utena." The name meant nothing to me. I flipped open the portfolio cover and took out the first sheaf of papers. Birth records, early school records, athletic awards…no scholarships or other awards of that nature. Transfer to private Ohtori Academy at age 14, graduation four years later. That completed her school portfolio. Everything nice, neat and tidy. It immediately put my hackles up. The next sheaf was no less informative, no less useless. Tenjou had been orphaned at 3, spent some time at an orphanage, ran away once or twice. The last time, at the age of 6, she had been gone for nearly a week, and had been returned by a businessman named Kiryuu. His son had discovered the girl hidden in a local church. Shortly after that, she had been given to an aunt, her mother’s sister, a corporate interior designer who traveled internationally. At 14, when she had transferred to Ohtori Academy, the aunt had moved to Amsterdam. They wrote sporadically, the correspondence tapering off after she moved. The last letter her aunt had written was in the file. I am sorry that it has been so long since I last wrote. I haven’t heard from you in a while. It’s been so busy here! I had a big job in Paris - I told you about that in my last letter, and about Michel. We were married last month and as I hadn’t heard from you, I thought I’d better let you know – I’ve made arrangements to give you the apartment in Japan, as I’ll be living here permanently. When you’ve got yourself settled, write. I miss you all the time and want to know what you are doing now…it’s been so long since I heard from you. It went on like that for a while. There was a follow up note appended to the aunt’s letter, mentioning that my client had attempted to reach the aunt at her last known address and phone number, but was unable to do so. The woman had apparently faded away, like an apparition. The next section was information pertaining to Tenjou’s apartment, left to her by the aforementioned aunt. The apartment had never been used. Tenjou had never contacted the lawyers and although the rent was still being paid, the red tape associated with that payment made it impossible to trace the source of income. The trail petered out an offshore holding company based in the Cayman Islands. I stared at this for a while, wondering who the hell my client was, that she could access all these records – and why they all ended so suddenly. I began to suspect foul play, but then, if that had been the case, why had nothing been reported to the police? Was it a Jane Doe case? Maybe Tobei could help me on this. The final section was a rough collection of personal notes, names of contacts, addresses, phone and fax numbers, and email addresses. All the miscellany that Miss Himemiya had gathered in the course of her investigation. Several names popped out at me. Kiryuu came up a few times, I noticed. It had been a Kiryuu that found Tenjou when she had run away…and had returned her to the orphanage. And that same boy had attended Ohtori when Tenjou had been there. Coincidence? I doubted it. I paged through the files and found a phone number. The date on the paper was less than 6 months ago, so I figured it was as good a place to start as any. Nice how my client had kept such meticulous records… as I dialed my phone, I wondered again where I was being led. Now, several hours and one appointment to see Kiryuu Touga tomorrow at 16:00 later (assuming that my train to Tokyo was not delayed) and I’d start putting together the mystery of the disappearance of Tenjou Utena. The light was beginning to fade as I left the noise of the Falls behind me, while my mind ran on ahead.
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