Spirits of the Noh (4 page)

Panic seized him. The road was dark. He could hear no traffic. No one had emerged to call an ambulance for him. Someone there, in the road, had caused his accident, but he didn’t hear a siren. They must have run away, maybe afraid to be blamed.

But where did that leave Daisuke?

In his agony, frightened at how hard it was to breathe, he began to cry, wondering how long it would be before his parents became worried and came to look for him. He imagined his mother in the kitchen, or sitting at the table, waiting, and the tears flowed more freely. He sobbed once, and a fresh wave of pain enveloped him, nearly forcing him again into unconsciousness.

And then he heard it—a rustle against the pavement, a scrape and hiss.

Daisuke froze. “Hello?” he managed, although even that was difficult. Maybe the person had not run away after all. Maybe they had called, and help was on the way. “Are you there?”

No reply. He tried to turn, but it hurt too much.

“Hello?” he tried again.

He heard another rustle, and a low shush, as if someone stood just behind him, breathing, watching. His pain and hope began to be replaced by fear.

Then a new sound reached him, a soft hiss, that started a few feet behind him, but swiftly came nearer, until it had become an almost intimate whisper, inches from his ear.

Kara sat at her computer, scanning through some of the photos she had taken in and around Miyazu City over the past few months. She loved taking pictures, and since Sakura often used photographic reference to inspire her art for their manga, Kara had visited some of the prettier sites in the area with her camera. Ancient prayer shrines and mountain villages always gave her a quiet sense of peace and made her feel the weight of history.

Often, her friends would come along on these jaunts. Sometimes Miho and Sakura would join her, and on others, Hachiro had been her companion. The term break had consisted mostly of exploring the area with them at her side. When classes were in session, she spent so much time at school that it had been wonderful to discover beautiful, out-of-the-way spots she would otherwise never have encountered.

She came upon a cute photo of Hachiro. They’d climbed to the top of Takigami Mountain to visit the observatory. Afterward, Hachiro had climbed onto a large, jagged rock and Kara had knelt on the ground. When he’d thrust out his arms as if they were wings, she had snapped the picture, and with the blue sky and white clouds behind him, Hachiro appeared to be flying. No Photoshop, no tweaking.

The picture made her smile.

On a whim, inspired by a burst of affection, she clicked to make the photo her computer’s desktop background. As she sat back to admire the result, a wave of fatigue swept over her, and she yawned, stretching in her chair. When Miho had first asked her and Sakura to help with the Noh club’s endeavor, the idea had intrigued her, but it certainly made her days seem longer. The clock on her computer screen told her that ten thirty had come and gone.

She had eaten dinner quickly and then hit the books, finishing her homework about forty-five minutes ago. Normally she read a little before bed, or played her guitar for a while, but tonight she had wanted to catch up on e-mail, check in with a few friends from home, and upload new pictures to her Facebook page. She had lost herself in the photos, and now all she wanted was to go to sleep. Facebook would have to wait until tomorrow night, or even the weekend.

With another glance at the photo of “flying” Hachiro, she got up from her chair. The room—like the house—was small, but somehow she had learned to keep it fairly neat. She cleared her books off her bed and made an orderly stack of them on the bureau. With a sigh, she glanced at her guitar on its stand in the corner, tempted to play just a little, but her bed called to her as well, and she found her pillow far more tempting than the strings of her guitar. Shaking the urge to play from her fingers, she went out into the hall.

The door to her father’s room stood open, so she peeked in to find him stretched out on his bed in New England Patriots pajama pants and a plain white T-shirt. He’d propped his head on pillows and a book rested on his chest, barely held open by faltering hands. His eyes were closed, though he did not seem entirely asleep. Rob Harper had a habit of drifting off while reading, and then muttering offhandedly the next morning about having lost his place in the book.

Kara stepped quietly into the room and deftly extracted the book from his hands, freezing a moment to make sure she hadn’t disturbed him. When her father’s only reply was a soft exhalation that made his lower lip tremble, she gave a quiet chuckle, marked the page in his book, and set it down on the nightstand.

Stepping back, she regarded her father a moment. In those pajama pants, he looked entirely out of place in the room, with its traditional Japanese decoration and the
tatami
mats on the floor. She felt a strong kinship with him then that had nothing to do with being his daughter. No matter how well they spoke the language, or learned the customs, they would always be outsiders here. But the flip side of that coin was that, whenever they wished, they would always have a home to go to. It really was the best of both worlds.

Kara shut off his light and went down the short hall to the bathroom. With the door closed, she brushed her teeth, but even over the sound of the running water, she heard the hard knock upon their front door. A deep frown creased her forehead. Whoever might be coming to their door at a quarter to eleven probably didn’t care very much about courtesy, but they were going to wake her father. Not that she could do much about it with her mouth full of toothpaste foam.

She finished quickly, rinsed out her mouth, and wiped a trace of toothpaste from her lips with a facecloth. Washing her face would have to wait. Kara pulled open the bathroom door and hurried into the living room to find her very sleepy-looking father talking to an anxious Miss Aritomo. The art teacher appeared distraught, and both of them glanced up as Kara entered.

“Dad?” she ventured, a knot of dread in her gut. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Yuuka … I mean, Aritomo-sensei …,” he began.

“I had some upsetting news,” the woman said, picking up where her father faltered. “I went out for a walk, thinking it might ease my mind, and when I found myself passing your house, I realized that your father would want to know, and that it would be nice to have someone to talk to.”

Despite her reservations about the burgeoning relationship between her father and her art teacher, Kara truly liked Miss Aritomo. Seeing her so obviously troubled, it only reminded Kara how kind the woman had been to her from the very first time they met, and she felt badly about the distance she had begun to put between them.

“Are you all right?” Kara asked, going to her, even as her father closed the front door. “What news?”

The two adults exchanged glances, a silent communication, both hesitating to tell her what had transpired. Hideous thoughts filled her head as she thought of the monstrous ketsuki, the demonic thing that had killed several students earlier in the year.

Kara started to shake her head. “Please tell me nobody’s dead,” she said in a tiny voice.

Miss Aritomo blinked at this, then began to shake her head as well. “No, no. It isn’t that. At least, I pray that it isn’t.”

Kara’s father put a hand on her shoulder. “One of Aritomo-sensei’s Noh club students, a boy who lives on the other side of the city, hasn’t come home tonight. His mother called the school. She’s very upset, of course. But it’s much too early to assume anything has happened to him.”

He seemed to be speaking to Miss Aritomo as much as he was to Kara now, comforting them both.

“The boy might have fallen off his bike and been hurt, or he could simply be at a party. Or, worse, perhaps he’s run away. But don’t jump to conclusions. There’s no reason to think horrible thoughts.”

Kara knew her father was probably right, but she had to force herself to smile.
No, no reason at all. Unless you’ve been cursed.

4

T
here were no bad dreams that night, but Kara slept even worse than she had the night before. Wednesday morning found her tired and frayed, wiping the grit of fitful sleep from her eyes, her head aching just enough to annoy her, but not enough for her to justify staying home from school. Especially not today.

The skies were a wan gray and the air thick with humidity as she walked from her house down the street toward the campus. Off to her left, a narrow, dead-end road led partway down along the bay shore, a place for people to stop and admire Ama-no-Hashidate, or to walk down to the water and take a quick swim or skip stones. Beyond the road’s end, a broad swath of the school grounds touched the shore, and then there were trees in the distance, bordering the property. Sakura’s sister, Akane, had been murdered there, on the grassy shore.

The violence of Akane’s murder had combined with Sakura’s grief and rage to draw the attention of the demon Kyuketsuki, who had languished in the spirit world, or in some odd limbo where old gods went to die. The demon’s once-great power had withered over the centuries, diminished by time and the absence of belief. To most Japanese, it was only a story now, only a character on the Noh stage. The events of the previous fall and spring had begun to open a window for it to return, but Kara, Miho, Sakura, and Hachiro had closed that window.

Kyuketsuki had cursed them all. Despite the August heat and the humidity, Kara shuddered as she walked through the archway at the edge of the campus and up the pathway toward the school. She could still remember, word for word, what the demon had said to them.

Little remains in the world now of the darkness of ancient days … but what there is will come to you, and to this place. All the evil of the ages will plague you, until my thirst for vengeance is sated.

There might not be many supernatural evils left on Earth, but Kyuketsuki had basically put a bounty on their heads, marked them all for death.
All the evil of the ages
was a pretty broad statement. They’d lived in fear for the first month, and in a kind of cold, numb dread for the second.

But after a while, with no sign of any attack, or anything at all out of the ordinary, it had been easy to believe the curse meant nothing, that maybe whatever evils of the ages might still be around, they had either withered in power like Kyuketsuki, or they had better things to do.

Now this kid, Daisuke Sasaki, had gone missing.

As soon as she’d woken up this morning, Kara had asked her father if he had heard anything more, but he had not. Miss Aritomo had left after midnight—and Kara didn’t even want to think about what they had been doing in the meantime, with her dad comforting the art teacher. When Miss Aritomo had finally left the house, Kara had peeked out the window, her bedroom lights off, and seen them kissing.
Erase, erase, erase
. She didn’t want to think about her father kissing someone other than her mom. It had gotten under her skin, and the memory of it haunted her, but she had other concerns right now.

She needed to talk to her friends, and to find out if this Daisuke had gotten home. Kara thought she had met him a couple of times. With the way the rehearsals for the play worked—the performers practicing in isolation—it was no surprise that she didn’t really know him. But Miho would.

Other students migrated toward the school, both boarders who streamed around the side from the dormitory beyond the main building and commuters who arrived by train or bus or bicycle, and even some who—like Kara—came by foot. At the bottom of the steps she paused to glance once more at the overcast sky. No distant thunder today, nor even any ominous threat of rain, just a gray shroud that looked as though it had always been there, and might never leave.

Hurrying up the stairs, she walked into the
genkan
, a large foyer whose walls were lined with cubbyholes where the students stored their street shoes. Inside the school building, they wore slippers called
uwabaki
, pink for girls and blue for boys, which always made Kara think of the way parents seemed to color-code newborn babies.

Amid the milling students, she searched for her friends. As she took off her shoes and stuffed them into a cubby, she kept glancing around, but at first saw no sign of them. Kara felt odd, her skin prickling with tension. She was in school, but felt apart from the other students. When she caught sight of bitchier-by-the-day Mai making a beeline toward her, she wished she could have been anywhere else.

“What happened to him, bonsai?” Mai said, her voice low, expression grim. She glanced around to make sure no one would overhear them. “Do you know where he is?”

A tremor passed through Kara. She knew exactly what Mai was talking about, but not
why
the girl would be asking her.

“Are you on drugs?” Kara asked, speaking loud enough to be overheard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mai hesitated, nostrils flaring with anger, eyes dark. Then she took a breath, and Kara could see beneath the nasty mask the girl had adopted in order to become queen of the soccer bitches. Mai had been quiet and unsure, once upon a time. That girl still lived inside this one. Kara got a glimpse of her, and realized that Mai was afraid.

“Ume told me what happened that night,” Mai whispered. She leaned in close and Kara flinched. “About Kyuketsuki. So don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m asking you. Where is Daisuke?”

Kara glanced around, wishing her friends would appear. Where were they all? She gnawed her upper lip and then made a little shrug.

“I don’t know. I mean, there’s no reason to think this is anything weird,” she said. Then her eyes widened. “Unless you’ve heard something. Is there news?”

Mai’s disappointment was plain. “No. Only that he didn’t go home.”

Kara felt bad for her, suddenly. Daisuke might be in Noh club, and Mai one of the soccer girls, but she clearly cared for him. “Is he your … I mean, are you two …?”

“We’re
friends
,” Mai said. “Is that difficult for you to understand? I do have friends who don’t play soccer, you know.”

Kara had nothing to say to that. Mai had been so awful to all of them over the past few months, she couldn’t quite bring herself to feel guilty, but she allowed herself to wonder if they had misjudged Mai a little. If Ume had told her what happened, perhaps Mai had been so harsh to them in order to keep them away from her. It didn’t excuse her behavior, but Kara had never considered that from Mai’s perspective, she and her friends might seem like the bad guys. Like trouble.

“If I hear anything—” she started.

Mai sneered at her. “You’ll do what? Get someone else killed? Don’t even speak to me, bonsai. You’re beneath me. Beneath notice.”

Kara blinked as if the girl had slapped her. Just a moment before she had been giving Mai the benefit of the doubt. Now no doubt remained.

Other soccer girls were starting to group around them, coming nearer, even as most students began to file into the corridor and walk toward the gym for the morning assembly. This time, it was Kara who stepped nearer, intimate, close enough to fill her senses with Mai’s plum blossom perfume.

“Your friend Ume
murdered
Akane Murakami. For all I know, you were one of the girls with Ume that night, one of the killers. I don’t appreciate the irony of you suggesting that I’m responsible for anyone dying. But, if you’d like, say that again, and I’ll be happy to
hurt
you.”

The soccer girls surrounded them now. If they had heard any of her whispered comments, they gave no sign of it, but Mai had heard her very clearly. Whatever part of her mask that had slipped was now repaired. Her sneering half smile showed no hint of the real girl beneath.

“I am certain your father would be quite proud of you, bonsai,” Mai said.

Kara nodded slowly. “You know what? He might be. Even if it dishonored him, he would understand. So don’t push me.”

Several of the soccer girls began to move closer as if to do exactly that, while others glanced around to make sure they weren’t observed. Mai held up a hand to forestall any scuffle.

“If you have anything to do with Daisuke being missing,” Mai said, “you will know what it feels like to be pushed.”

The moment went on for several beats and Kara balled her fists, ready to fight if it came to that. Then one of the soccer girls swore quietly in Japanese and stepped aside as Sakura pushed her way in among them, took Kara’s hand, and led her out of the crowd.

They walked quickly out of the genkan and into the corridor, heading toward the gym for morning assembly. The soccer girls followed perhaps ten feet behind, loudly whispering rude things to them.

“
Rezu,
” one of them said, taunting.

Kara glanced at Sakura, whispering, “What did they just call us?”

Sakura smiled. “They called
me
a lesbian.”

“Are you?” Kara asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I couldn’t say. It’s sort of like cheeseburgers, I suppose.”

“
How
is it like cheeseburgers?”

“I’ve never tried one, but when I see them in movies or on TV, I’m intrigued.”

Kara let that sit for a while, trying to process it. Not that it troubled her. If Sakura eventually decided she liked girls, she wouldn’t be the first lesbian Kara had been friends with. She’d always be Sakura, and that was all that mattered. What disturbed her deeply was the idea that Sakura had never had a cheeseburger.

They walked into the assembly, where the students were lined up by homeroom. In a moment, they would separate, and not see each other again until o-soji. Miho must have gotten up earlier than Sakura; she was already in line with the rest of their homeroom class. Kara spotted Hachiro with his own class and waved to him. He waved back, but she thought he looked anxious, and knew why. They all needed to talk, and soon.

“Did you hear about Daisuke?” Kara asked.

“The whole dorm heard, last night. Teachers came to ask his friends if anyone had spoken to him, or knew why he might not have come home. Now they’re saying he has run away.”

Kara felt a twinge of hope. “Do they know that for sure?”

Sakura shrugged. “How could they?”

“So, do you think it’s got to do with … with Kyuketsuki?” Kara asked, whispering the last.

Before Sakura could reply, Mr. Sato snapped at Kara and gestured curtly for her to take her place in line with the other students in 2-C.

“We’ll talk during calligraphy club,” Sakura said, heading for her own line.

Kara got in line with her classmates, wishing she could stand with Miho. But they would have plenty of time to talk later. They needed to talk. Meanwhile, she would be spending every spare moment praying that Daisuke came home safely, for his sake and his parents’, and also for hers.

Miho Baisotei had lived the first sixteen years of her life in quiet diligence. Her parents had raised her with little warmth but with a great sense of expectation that had seeped into her own sense of self. They went on with their lives, providing for her education and physical welfare, but otherwise leaving her to fulfill that expectation. When she thought of them, her heart remained mostly numb, though she had gone through long periods of melancholy. Mostly, she studied, and her effort paid off. As long as she continued along those lines, Miho would never need to attend a juku school, and she would certainly find herself in an excellent university.

And then she would escape. Years of watching Western movies and reading Western books had instilled within her a yearning to be free of the expectations, both her own and her parents’. The United States might have tarnished its reputation, but to her it still meant freedom. Her fascination with American boys sprang from the same desires. Most of the boys she knew did not seem as traditional as the adults she knew, but in America, she could be anyone or anything she wished. That was the magic and the promise of the place. Once, she had thought her parents might allow her to attend university in the United States, but they had ignored all of her attempts to discuss it, so Miho would have to wait until she had her degree. And then she would leave.

All through her schooling, she had lived her life in the balance between hope and necessity, building her life with an eye toward the future. Which wasn’t to say Miho did not enjoy her studies. There had been teachers she despised and those she adored, and there were several subjects—history, biology, and, of course, American studies—that she truly enjoyed. And friends … she had been so lucky to be assigned Sakura as her roommate, a girl who would understand what it meant to be ignored by her parents, not to mention the desire to rebel.

Sakura didn’t seem to share her desire to live in America, but when it came to breaking convention, Miho wished she had the courage to emulate her friend. How many times had she been tempted to cut and color her hair, or roll up the top of her sailor fuku skirt so that it would be scandalously short, or stay out long past curfew and come home drunk? She simply couldn’t do it. Perhaps it was her natural shyness, but for now, Miho was a good girl, keeping her rebellion locked up in her heart until the day she graduated university, when she would be set free.

All that day, she sat in class, too far from Kara to speak to her except for a few words between each class and at lunch, and not daring to pass notes in class for fear that Mr. Sato would turn his stormy eyes upon her. She’d eaten lunch without really tasting it, and when she had finished and had put her
bento
box away, she barely remembered having eaten at all.

Miho could not focus that day. The teachers paraded in and out of the room for each class, and it seemed almost as if they were speaking another language. She followed hardly any of it. She took few notes, and many of those were inaccurate.

All she could think about was Kyuketsuki’s curse.

Her life had been far from perfect, but it had been in perfect balance, mapped out for her. She had friends, and hopes, and a boy—Ren—who made her smile and got her thoughts spinning in embarrassing directions, despite her thing for American guys. But in April, all of her carefully constructed plans had come crashing down, and life had been thrown out of balance, not just for her, but for Kara and Sakura and Hachiro as well.