I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter

Margaret Atwood

Missing Person

‘When did these nightmares start? When did Amachi become absent?
Nanako Amachi— What kind of person was she?
Remember, remember!’


The Newcomer

The new recruit Nanako Amachi is an odd duck. She joins the team of elite investigators at the Ninth as the first woman in August 2060, half a year after the arrival of Aoki, the protagonist himself. In the middle of her introduction, she proclaims that she can perceive auras and spirits, and “demonstrates” this skill to the police superintendent Maki — notorious for his no-nonsense leadership, temper and sharp tongue — no less. (He is not impressed.)

A young woman with a ponytail is smiling smugly as abstract shapes of spirits or souls surround her.

Amachi is unwaveringly bubbly, sociable, well-mannered, eager to learn and help, candid from the outset (a double-edged quality) and, judging from her lack of awareness (or is it indifference?) of how her strange demeanour must come across to others, perhaps also a tad clumsy in social matters. She comes with a passionate and vocal interest in spirits, corpses and crimes, and values the prospect of getting to examine the link between spirits and heinous crimes. Her undisguised excitement to get into the gruesome and gritty parts of work may seem misplaced considering the nature of the investigations, but her enthusiasm is genuine. A taste of the woman herself:

“We’ll be looking at the MRI images, right? I couldn’t get a wink of sleep last night. It will be my first time seeing a real corpse. It’ll be really gruesome, won’t it? I’m all excited!”

“It’s sensational! — Oh! I know it’s inappropriate to say that. I apologize, and may the victim rest in peace, but— but— the impact of those images, the pain and also the subtle… pleasure… This immoral ecstasy— it’s— it’s like— arousal! If I’m aroused by a corpse, does that make me a necrophiliac?! What will become of me, Aoki-senpai?!”

Her coworkers avoid her pretty much right away, pushing all the responsibility of mentoring on Aoki. (They seem somewhat more amenable after Amachi vomits and faints at the sight of her first corpse, a live dissection transmitted by way of the MRI scanner, as if some proof was needed that she is, indeed, on some level, “normal”, relatable.)


Slip of the Hand

Generally speaking, newcomers quit the Ninth within a fortnight. Half of them are unable to bear the mental strain that comes with the job; unsurprisingly, watching images of gruesome murders over and over leads to nervous breakdowns soon enough, from daily vomiting, loss of appetite, nightmares and insomnia to hallucinations. The other half resigns as a result of insurmountable differences with Maki’s difficult personality and work ethics.

It is in her oddness and her cheer that Amachi sets herself apart from her fellow investigators, and in her persistence from the new recruits who came before. That does not, however, spare her from Maki’s wrath. Three months into the job, she spills water on a hard disk by setting Maki’s drink down in the wrong place, thereby risking data corruption in the ongoing demanding investigation. It is a mistake with dire consequences: Aoki takes a hard slap to the face, a humiliation delivered in the presence of the stunned team. Though Amachi admits her mistake right away and apologizes profoundly, Maki’s rebuke is merciless:

Maki, back turned to the viewer, slaps an astonished Aoki, whose glasses have fallen off. In the background, Amachi is flinching.

“It’s all the same. If a subordinate keeps forgetting things, it is the responsibility of her senior to repeat them. Any time you make a mistake, it will be Aoki who will be held accountable. You’re wrong to think you can assume responsibility for your own mistakes in this laboratory. Think carefully before you act.”

Aoki is ordered to restore the corrupt data by 3 in the morning, whatever the cost.


Punishment

Aoki is sitting in front of several large computers, his back turned to Amachi, who is sitting behind him. His pose reveals his exasperation.

As Aoki is left to work deep into the night, Amachi dutifully keeps him company. Over and over she offers her help (she could grab him dinner, investigate a lead she has found to contribute to the investigation), makes conversation to help him stay awake, and goes as far as sharing her tender observations on the protective spirit that she perceives at his side in trying moments.

Any encouragement or attempt of hers to lighten the mood, however, is brushed off, rejected, and really, none of it matters, because to Aoki, Amachi is just a nuisance, the reason he is in this miserable situation in the first place, and any word she utters grates on his ears. Pressured, aching, overworked and overtired, he eventually yells:

“Go home! — Every time you open your mouth, it’s always spirits or auras… I— I’m sick of it! Just go home! You bother me more than anything else!”

Amachi's silhouette at the threshold of the office door, head turned back, face concealed in the shadows.

And Amachi, realizing that she has tried all she could, apologizes one last time and leaves.

At the door, she turns back to ask:

“Don’t you believe in the existence of spirits?”

Little does Aoki know that may have been their final exchange.

Driving home from Lewiston, full and blue, the moon
over one shoulder of highway. There,
or in your kitchen at midnight, sitting anywhere
in the seeping dark, we bury them again and
again under the same luminous thumbprint.

The dead leave us starving with mouths full of love.

Their stones are salt and mark where we look back.

Anne Michaels