Spirits of the Noh

10

Kara is drowning.

She cannot breathe, and blackness swims at the edges of her vision. Angry red spots flash in her brain. Her hearing is muffled, and as she lashes out, struggling, she feels as though she moves in slow motion. Water. I’m under water.

The realization is an epiphany. Disoriented, chest aching for air, she pushes herself in a direction she believes is upward, and her arms burst from the water. She sips at sweet relief, the air like magic in her lungs.

All around her, bobbing on the surface, paper lanterns float. Yet these don’t have the variety of hues of the festival lanterns. These come only in white-white lanterns, the spirits of the recent dead, eddying around her, floating closer as though drawn to her.

Something tugs her from below the water. She tries to cry out, but no sound escapes her lips as she is dragged under once more.

No, no, no. I don’t want to-

Her thoughts fall apart. The last of the air inside her struggles to be exhaled. Kara knows that if she opens her mouth she will drown. She will die. But her lungs demand air, and her thoughts are losing coherence, and she cannot stop herself.

She opens her mouth in a scream… but this time it is not silent.

With a gasp, she looks around. No longer in the water, she finds herself in a thick tangle of pines, and recognizes the place immediately. The black woods of Ama-no-Hashidate. Without the water muffling her hearing, the silence is gone. The air is filled with a loud hiss, layers of sound, the voices of serpents.

They hold her arms and legs, their coiled bodies emerging from the branches of the trees, more and more snakes reaching for her, tongues darting, eyes unblinking. Her throat is torn apart by her scream, her chest clenched by utter panic.

Please! she cries. Please!

She does not know to whom she appeals for mercy, only that mercy is her only hope.

Something grips her wrist, colder even than the skin of snakes, but not rough like the serpents. Soft. Gentle. Kara spins to see the hand on her wrist, peers into the thick bristle of darkness between two trees, and her eyes widen. Hope grows.

“Mom?”

The woman smiles. The serpents fall from Kara as though fleeing her touch, driven away. Kara blinks in astonishment and gratitude. Her mother has protected her.

Then the terrible truth crashes in from a part of her mind that cannot be deceived by dreams.

“But you’re dead,” she says before she can stop herself.

The sadness in her mother’s face breaks her heart. The serpents return, but not for Kara. They coil around her mother’s arms and legs, drape over her shoulders, and begin to pull her deeper into the trees.

“No!” Kara shouts. “Stop!”

Her mother hangs her head, hair obscuring her features, as the snakes pull her into the black nothing, and in a moment, she is gone. Kara hurls herself into the dark crush of branches that tear and scratch and jab her, lunging for her mother, but her hands close only on pine branches and shadows.

With a cry of anguish, she wakes…

Kara sat up, and for a moment, wasn’t sure if she had really called out in her sleep. The wan light of Sunday morning came through the window, carried on a warm breeze, but though she listened for his footfalls, her father did not come to check on her. She must have cried out only in the dream.

With a deep breath, she let go of much of the fear that lingered after the nightmare. It dissipated with each passing moment. But the melancholy did not depart so quickly. Parts of the dream were already fading in her mind, but she knew it would be a long time before she forgot the worst of it. Not the snakes, though those were nightmarish. What Kara would not be able to scour from her mind was the look on her dream-mother’s face when she told her that she was dead.

It had felt like a betrayal. The dream-the illusion-could have been sweet. Her mother had come to protect her, to hold Kara, to guide her, and Kara had dismissed her.

It was only a dream, she told herself now. But somehow that reassurance wasn’t enough to relieve her of the strange guilt that she felt. If she had not spoken, if she had not broken the illusion, the darkness would never have claimed her mom. As foolish as it was-Kara knew dreams could not be controlled-the guilt remained.

After the events at the Toro Nagashi Festival the night before, she was exhausted. Her bedside clock revealed the time to be just before eight a.m. She could sneak in a couple more hours of sleep and she knew her father would not wake her. But Kara stretched and sat up, forcing herself to leave the comfort of her bed. Better to be awake now. If she went back to sleep right away, she might return to the same dream. It happened sometimes. This morning, she could not bear the thought.

As she’d fallen asleep the night before she had struggled with the temptation to tell her father everything, to explain what she and her friends believed was really going on. She had played out various scenarios in her mind, imagining that he would go with her to Mr. Yamato-they could bring all of the others, even Mai, in with them-and the principal would listen. She believed that part, at least, was true. The last time she’d been in Mr. Yamato’s office, it had been clear that he already half-believed that something unnatural was going on at Monju-no-Chie school.

But that was where her imaginary scenario fell apart. She simply could not escape the feeling that her father, always a practical man, would think she had lost her marbles. Even when she woke up this morning, that version of events seemed so much more likely to her. He would think that fear or stress had made her snap, or that she was having some kind of breakdown, or he would think she was a liar, and that was the worst scenario of all.

Things had been tense, and Kara had felt the distance growing between them. It scared her to even consider doing something that might push him further away.

She pulled on a pair of shorts and padded quietly to her door, not wanting to wake him. But when she stepped into the hallway, she paused, brows knitting, as she heard voices in the living room. Her father, yes, but he wasn’t alone.

“I feel like I should be doing something,” a woman’s voice said.

Kara blinked. Miss Aritomo? She glanced back into her room to confirm the time. Still five minutes before eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. What the hell was the woman doing here so early in the morning?

She took a sharp breath. Had her art teacher spent the night? Had Miss Aritomo come over after Kara had gone to bed? She couldn’t believe her father would do such a thing. He’d be horrified by how it might look, both to his daughter and to the school administration.

Still, Kara couldn’t rule it out. Otherwise, when had Miss Aritomo arrived? Seven a.m.? Six? She couldn’t imagine that, but she wouldn’t let herself imagine the alternative, either. Her father was an adult, but the idea of him sleeping with any woman both disturbed and disappointed her.

“Yasu had such enthusiasm and he was so kind,” Miss Aritomo said, her voice cracking. “I can’t… even if I were to choose someone else to take his role in the play, I don’t know if I could continue. I don’t know if I should. Three of my students, Rob. My Noh club kids.”

Kara held her breath. Miss Aritomo sounded so torn up inside that she couldn’t help feeling badly. She had never given any consideration to how all of this might affect Miss Aritomo, the grief it would bring her. Could Kara really blame her for seeking some solace in her father’s company?

“Yuuka,” her father said, his voice soft and kind. “Look at me. You don’t know what happened to those other two. It’s completely possible that they really did run away together.”

A few seconds passed in silence before Miss Aritomo spoke. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t,” her father admitted. “But that doesn’t change anything. It’s possible.”

Kara walked into the living room. “Good morning.”

The two of them looked up, her father in a T-shirt and pajama pants-much too comfortable dressed that way in front of this woman, his colleague-and Miss Aritomo looking tired in a pair of pants and a baggy cotton sweater. She usually looked immaculate, but this morning her hair was wild and unkempt as though she’d just rolled out of bed. And she was barefoot.

Kara checked the floor near the front door, but if Miss Aritomo had taken her shoes off upon entering, she’d tucked them away somewhere. Yeah, like under Dad’s bed.

The thought put ice in her veins. No. He wouldn’t do that. Not after the argument they had already had.

But a teapot sat on the table and it looked to have been there for some time. Their teacups were empty. Kara’s father sat up straighter, a hundred thoughts flashing behind his eyes, like he was trying to find a way to explain the cozy scenario.

“Good morning, Kara,” Miss Aritomo said.

Realizing he’d not responded, Kara’s father smiled sadly, apologetically. “Good morning, honey.”

“Bonsai,” she corrected. “It’s what some of the kids call me at school. You know this. I’ve told you.”

“Why would I call you that?” her father asked, frowning.

Miss Aritomo shifted awkwardly in her seat but continued to smile.

“It’s what I am,” Kara told him. She pulled out a chair and sat with them, reaching out for the teapot. A small amount of tea sloshed inside.

“Would you like me to make some more?” Miss Aritomo asked politely, beginning to rise.

“No!” Kara snapped.

Her father and her teacher stared at her. Miss Aritomo had actually flinched. Kara didn’t care. This was her house, and her father’s house, not the house of this woman. Wasn’t she Japanese? Didn’t she give a damn about propriety? Who the hell did she think she was, wanting to make tea in a place she didn’t belong?

“Kara-” her father began.

She sighed. “So last night, you said you thought school would be closed for a while. Any idea how long?”

Her father hesitated, as though he wanted to go back and address what had just happened, but then he let it go. “At least three days. A lot depends on what the police are able to find out about this boy Yasu.”

“About his murder, you mean?” Kara asked.

That broke Miss Aritomo’s composure and her sadness returned. She lowered her head and wiped at one eye. Kara’s father reached out and covered her hand with his own, and that was enough.

Kara stood up. She knew she was being a bitch, but couldn’t bring herself to care. Rob Harper was her father. He should have been comforting his daughter, not this woman they’d known for only six months. Kara had been there, on the beach, helping to search for Yasu. Where was her comforting hand?

“I guess the police will be working overtime now, huh?” Kara said as she rose from the table and turned to go back to her room. “After what happened in April, maybe they’ll need to do their jobs. With all the people who were at the festival, I don’t think anyone’s going to believe that ‘bear attack’ story again, do you?”

“What do you mean by that?” her father called after her. “Kara?”

She went into her room, closed the door, and crawled into her bed, hoping that she could fall back to sleep. Bad dreams be damned.

Shortly after one p.m., Kara walked up the street toward Monju-no-Chie school and under the archway that led onto the grounds. She had slept for several hours and woken to find the house empty. A note from her father on the kitchen table explained that the teachers were going to be at school all day, phoning parents and answering questions from the boarding students.

Her cell phone had been off while she slept, but she found two voice messages and half a dozen texts from her friends. Apparently grief counselors were coming the next day, Monday, but for this afternoon the teachers and principal would be available in their classrooms for any students who wanted to talk to them about Yasu’s death or the school closure. Sakura’s text messages were amusing in their fury-according to her, all outstanding assignments would be due on the first day that classes resumed. That meant Kara had to go over to the school to pick up some of her books.

Miho had left her a voice message telling her that Miss Aritomo had scheduled a special meeting of the Noh club and volunteers for 2:30 p.m., and suggested they all meet at her room in advance to discuss their next step.

Kara followed a stone path at first, then diverted from the path onto the grass. Instead of going up to the front steps of the school, where the doors were open and a uniformed security guard-a startling new addition to the campus-stood just inside, she stayed to the right of the building. Despite the sunshine and the August heat, she shivered at the thought that this was the same patch of grass-between school and parking lot-where the Hannya had come after Miho.

Picking up her pace, she crossed the field that separated the school from the dorm. On an ordinary Sunday, the field would have been full of students hanging out, studying in the sun, or playing baseball, but today there were only a handful. One or two were alone, listening to music on their headphones while they studied or read, but the rest were in small, anxious groups, like people gathered outside a funeral home, waiting to attend a wake.

At the door, she had to show her identification to a second security guard who had been posted at the dormitory entrance. The man seemed dubious, narrowing his gaze as he studied her and then her ID. Yes, I’m white and American! she wanted to shout, but managed to fight the temptation. Everyone connected to the school would be tense and frightened today, and these new security guys were no exception.

Still, the seconds ticked by. He didn’t ask any questions, almost as if she weren’t standing there. Just when Kara had started to think she ought to have been wearing her school uniform instead of blue jeans and a tank top, the guard handed her ID back and asked her to sign in.

Kara signed, then hurried up the stairs. She needed to see Hachiro. One of the voice messages on her cell had been from him. But Sakura and Miho were waiting for her, so she wanted to stop by their room first before they could hook up with the boys.

Several doors were open, as if to make some connection with the world outside of those rooms, but the girls inside were as quiet as they would have been studying in a library, glancing quickly at Kara as she passed in the corridor and then looking away. The building was so quiet, in fact, that the slap of her brown leather sandals on the floor made her cringe.

Miho and Sakura’s door was closed. Kara gave a short, quick knock, wanting to be out of the hall, away from the grim climate of the dorm.

“Who is it?” Miho asked from inside.

“Kara.”

The lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing Miho just within. As Kara entered, she blinked in surprise, staring at the two girls who stood by the windows. Of course she had expected Sakura-she lived there, after all-but of all the guests Kara might have expected Miho and Sakura to be entertaining, Mai wouldn’t even have been on the list.

“What’s she doing here?” Kara blurted, so stunned she couldn’t stop herself.

Sakura smiled, a bit of mischief in her eyes, and turned away from Mai, dropping down onto her bed. Overnight, she’d dyed a strip of her hair a yellow so bright that it looked like a bird’s feather hanging over her face. She wore a shirt with ruffles down the middle, like it ought to go with a tuxedo, and it somehow made her chest look much bigger than it actually was. Heavy eyeliner and a black, pleated skirt-dangerously short-completed the transformation. Whatever rebellion Sakura nurtured in her heart, she had obviously decided to let it all out. Kara thought maybe this was her way of hiding from her fear. If it worked, good for her.

“She wants to help,” Sakura said.

“It only makes sense,” Miho added as she closed the door behind Kara, shutting the four girls in the room together. “Other than Hachiro and Ren, Mai’s the only other person who knows what’s really going on. Plus, Wakana is her roommate, and Daisuke is her friend. Do you really want to turn her away?”

Kara stared at Miho, who had also made a sort of transition. If Sakura found comfort in rebellion-her own little bit of chaos-Miho sought solace in order. She’d pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail, applied just a touch of makeup under her glasses, and put on pants so neat and crisp they looked new, paired with a white, ribbed top with navy blue piping that matched the color of her pants. The little gold chain around her neck only added to the impression that she had dressed for a job interview.

“What the hell?” Kara whispered in English.

She shook her head and looked at Mai. Weird as it was, the one girl in the room she couldn’t stand was the only one who didn’t seem to be completely freaking out. Mai looked the way she always did, uptight and arrogant, though now-as had been the case lately-with the weight of sadness in her eyes.

“You really want to help?” Kara asked.

Mai crossed her arms. “I want answers. I want to know what happened to my friends. Of course I want to help.”

The corners of her mouth were pinched as if in anger, but her eyes told a different story, and Kara couldn’t deny the real pain she saw there. Mai was sincere.

Kara nodded. “Fine. We needed a sixth person anyway.”

“That was easier than I expected,” Sakura said.

Kara glanced at Miho, then looked down at her. “If we’re going to try to watch over the rest of the kids working on the Noh play, we’ll have to split up. But no way is anyone going to be alone at anytime. With Mai, there are six of us; that means three teams of two.”

“And how do we decide who goes with whom?” Mai asked.

“You don’t,” Kara said. “We do. I’m with Hachiro. Miho and Ren. You’ll be with Sakura.”

Sakura protested loudly. “I don’t want her with me. Let her go with Hachiro. You don’t necessarily have to be with your boyfriend, right? I mean, if you guys are kissing or whatever, you’re not going to be able to pay much attention to the people you’re supposed to be looking after.”

Mai stared at Sakura. “To hell with you. I came to help.” She started toward the door.

Kara held up a hand to stop her. “If you want to help, then help. Don’t be a diva. You didn’t really expect to show up here and have us all like you, did you? Of course not. Get over it.”

Then she turned to Sakura. “You’re with Mai for two reasons. First, the Hannya might be going after the kids in the Noh club for now. Maybe they disrespected it somehow, or maybe it just preys on them because they were the ones who summoned it. But you and me and Miho-we’re the ones with the curse on us. If the curse has anything to do with the Hannya being here, then we’re targets, too. Maybe the Noh club, the actors and stuff, they’re just the appetizers. If that’s true, then the three of us shouldn’t be together. We partner up with someone who isn’t cursed.”

Mai stared at her, eyes wide. “You admit you’re cursed? That this whole thing is happening because of you?”

Sakura got up off the bed, hands clenched into fists. “Don’t even say that again. Yes, we have a curse on us, and maybe that’s what brought the Hannya here. But it all started with your friend Ume murdering my sister. The less you remind me of that, the less often I’ll have to struggle with the urge to hurt you.”

“That’s the other reason I want you with Mai,” Kara said, keeping her gaze fixed on Mai. “If she does anything that could put us in more danger, you’re the only one who won’t hesitate to beat the crap out of her.”

Mai lifted her chin. “It might not be as easy as you imagine.”

Sakura grinned, shrugging. “Hopefully we’ll never know. Friends aren’t supposed to fight.”

“We’re not friends,” Mai quickly corrected.

“No,” Miho agreed. “But for now, we’ll have to be.”

Kara nodded. “All right. Let’s go get the boys. We don’t want to be late for Aritomo-sensei’s meeting.”