Akiko was still thinking about what Shiraishi had said as she continued looking around the area for concentrations of kegare. Akira was still busy at work, so she was walking again, stopping to look around. She went to the park first, confirming that it still seemed fairly clear. She saw someone working on the toilet block, but otherwise the park was empty, of both people and visible spirits. Satisfied, she set off to look for more concentrations.

They had put the flag up in the end, digging out an old flagpole and setting it up beside the shrine house. Shiraishi had pointed out that she couldn’t remember her uncle, given that he had died twelve years before she was born, and, in any case, the current Japanese state was not an imperialistic war machine, so if it would keep such a generous donor happy it was a reasonable thing to do. It still made Akiko a little uncomfortable, though, and she was trying to work out why.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like the flag; that was obvious. And it couldn’t really be concern for Shiraishi’s feelings, since the priest was willing to put it up. It was also true that it was only a small thing, and that lots of other shrines did it anyway. So, why?

She had scanned several areas before part of the reason finally occurred to her. The shrine didn’t seem to have anything to do with Japan as a nation. Tamao only seemed to be concerned for the local area; he had never mentioned the country as a whole, or the Emperor. The flag didn’t seem to have anything to do with the shrine.

The second part of her concern quickly became clear after that. Mr Fujimura was using the influence he had gained from his donation to shape the way the shrine was acting. Yes, this was a small thing, and now that her reasons for disquiet were clear to her Akiko had to agree with Shiraishi that putting the flag up was the right thing to do. But she was still worried about what Mr Fujimura might ask for next.

At the next junction, her musings were brought to a halt by the sight of a building absolutely laden with kegare. Strips of faded material, stained red, yellow, brown, and green, the colours of human excreta, bundled it up, while spirits in the form of white cockroaches scuttled over it. The building seemed to be oozing liquids that looked, and, as the wind shifted, smelled, like mixed blood, urine, and faeces. Akiko gagged, and dropped her vision.

Now she could see the sign; the building was an old folks’ home. She shuddered briefly at the thought of being housed in there to await the end of your life, and then walked over. They had to purify the place, and this was private property.

“You want to <em>what?</em>â€ The receptionist burst out laughing at the suggestion, shaking her head. “No, thank you. We don’t want religious groups targeting these vulnerable old people.â€

Akiko wanted to protest, but realised that she had nothing persuasive to say. The receptionist didn’t even believe in kegare. Instead, she just nodded, and left.

She still knew that they needed to purify the place, for the sake of the people living there.

And if they had to do it without permission, then that is what they would do.