Spirits of the Noh

11

I am still committed to bringing Noh theater to life at Monju-no-Chie school,” Miss Aritomo said, standing at the head of the classroom. “But I am certain that you will all understand why, for now, it is best to suspend any further preparations or rehearsals for Dojoji.”

Kara shifted awkwardly in her seat. Several times while she was speaking, Miss Aritomo had focused on her, as though speaking directly to her. Kara wished she wouldn’t do that. All morning she had been trying to erase from her mind the image of the woman sitting at the breakfast table with her father, hair unkempt, sipping tea, as though she belonged there. As though she’d woken up there.

You’re not family, Kara thought now, trying to communicate the message through her gaze. Yet when Miss Aritomo did glance at her again, Kara looked away.

Muttered whispers went through the room. Normally the Noh club would have been far more orderly and respectful, but the situation unnerved it. With members of the club as well as volunteers present, the room buzzed with voices and bulged with too many warm bodies. People stood in the back and along the side walls.

A girl at the front raised her hand. “How long before rehearsals begin again?”

Everyone had wanted to ask the same thing. Miss Aritomo smiled politely as always, and inclined her head.

“All preparations are canceled until further notice,” the teacher said. “This is a time of great sadness for all of us, and of questions and cautions. We should all be reflecting upon the loss of our friend, and yet remain aware of our surroundings. Whoever killed Yasu did so on Ama-no-Hashidate, far from school. There is no reason to believe a threat exists here, but this is a reminder to us all that we must take care of ourselves and one another.”

Silence fell upon the room. In the seat next to Kara, Miho fidgeted. Sakura cleared her throat a little, glancing around expectantly. Ren hadn’t come in-he was upstairs with Hachiro and Mai-but if he’d been there, Kara imagined that Miss Aritomo’s tone would have erased even his ever-present smile.

“Are you saying we’re in danger?” one guy at the front of the room asked.

Miss Aritomo cocked her head, hesitant, as though they’d caught her saying something she hadn’t meant to.

“No,” she said, the lie sounding hollow. “There is no reason to think that. As I said, the attack on Yasu took place during the festival, nowhere near the school. The police are investigating, of course, but no one has suggested-”

A girl from Hachiro’s homeroom raised her hand, but did not wait to be called on.

“Excuse me, Aritomo-sensei,” she said, “but what about Daisuke and Wakana? I know the police say they ran away to be together, but what if they didn’t? They were also in Noh club. I’m… I’m frightened that something might have happened to them, too. Doesn’t it seem a huge coincidence that these things are happening only to students in the Noh club?”

When Miss Aritomo smiled now, her expression seemed brittle and her face had gone pale.

“I understand, Chiyoko, but it really is a coincidence. As much as we may worry about our missing friends, and grieve for Yasu-and Mr. Yamato has suspended school for these few days so that we can properly grieve-no one has suggested any connection among these cases.”

Her attempts at reassuring the class were having the opposite effect, Kara thought. Miss Aritomo spoke with no conviction at all, and it was obvious that she feared the very same things, but refused to speak about them. A silence spread among the students as they recognized her fear, and Kara could see in the art teacher’s eyes that she knew they had seen through her.

“For my part,” she said, forging ahead, “I still look forward to working with all of you to bring Dojoji to life in the grand Noh tradition. To honor Yasu, and to reflect, we will simply cease work for a time, and when we resume our work, we will dedicate our efforts in his honor as well.”

Kara stared at her, fascination overcoming any lingering awkwardness from the morning. Miss Aritomo had been shattered by Yasu’s murder and by her fears about what might have become of her other missing students. If anything, she was more afraid than the club members about what might come next. Kara didn’t think that Miss Aritomo had any inkling about what was really going on-that there was a hideous reality to her dream of bringing Dojoji to life-but the events of the past week obviously weighed horribly upon her.

When she dismissed the students, Miss Aritomo glanced over, but Kara pretended not to notice, standing and shuffling out of the room with Sakura and Miho. Whatever her father’s girlfriend-for that’s what she was now, wasn’t she?-wanted to say to her, it could wait.

“What do you think?” Miho whispered to Kara and Sakura as they moved with the other students toward the stairs.

“I think she’s falling apart,” Sakura muttered.

They started up the stairs. Hachiro, Ren, and Mai would be waiting for them outside the front door.

“That’s not what I meant,” Miho said, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “I mean, if the production is canceled, do you think it will stop now? Do we still need to follow through with the plan?”

Kara frowned. “You think it’s just going to go away?”

“Well, if there isn’t going to be a play-”

A ripple of unease went through Kara. She moved nearer to Miho, whispered in her ear, knowing her tone was harsh but not at all sorry.

“Have you already forgotten that thing that chased you in the dark? Or the glimpse we got of Yasu’s body in the woods? Hannya or not, whatever it is, it’s on the hunt now. As long as it has prey, it isn’t going anywhere.”

Had it not been for Ren’s presence by her side, Miho would never have stayed out after dark. Even with Ren there for company, she glanced nervously at the darker shadows they passed, wary for any sign of the Hannya, or even the sense that they were being followed.

For her part, the girl, Chiyoko, seemed to have no sixth sense at all when it came to being pursued. Miho and Ren had followed her from the dorm, across the grounds of the school-keeping a reasonable distance-and down the street past Kara’s house and the train station, to arrive at a tiny sweet shop called Cherry Blossoms. The aromas of the candy coming through the door made Miho hungry, but she and Ren remained outside, across the road, while Chiyoko and a female friend they didn’t recognize browsed inside the sweet shop.

“You do know this is hopeless, right?” Ren said, his voice low.

Miho flinched and looked at him, wondering for a moment if he meant the task at hand or the crush she’d been nurturing for him. She assumed the former, only because in the past couple of days, the awkwardness between them had begun to dissipate. In fact, now that she’d made a fool of herself by basically asking him out, only to learn that he didn’t like girls, their friendship had grown much stronger. They had originally gotten to know each other because both were friends of Sakura, but now Miho and Ren had forged their own bond, thanks to her embarrassment and his kindness.

“You think we’re wasting our time?” she asked.

They stood in the shadows under a tree, across the street from Cherry Blossoms. Chiyoko and her friend had been in there awhile.

Ren shrugged, still staring at the shop. Little slices of moonlight cut through the branches of the tree and made his bronze hair gleam. Miho forced herself not to think about it; he was a friend, and a friend he would stay.

“There aren’t enough of us,” Ren replied. He glanced at her, and she could see the worry in his eyes. “Six of us to watch out for dozens of other students? It isn’t enough. We are very lucky tonight, but what about tomorrow?”

Miho took a deep breath and nodded. What could she say? They had all known the limitations of their plan from the beginning. Now that they had started to implement it, the hugeness of the task only confirmed what they had feared. Tonight, Sakura and Mai were in the lobby of the dormitory, watching out for any Noh club students who might leave the building, though most of them were too anxious to go anywhere after dark. Yasu’s death had thrown a grim shroud over all of them.

Kara and Hachiro were over at the school building. A handful of Noh club kids had gone there to pack up materials they’d already completed for the stage and background. Along with the costumes, some finished and others works-in-progress, they would be carefully stored until work on the production resumed. That meant that Kara and Hachiro could watch over four of the Hannya’s potential targets at one time, even as nearly all of the others were inside their dorms for the night.

Those who lived at home had departed in the afternoon, as soon as Miss Aritomo had finished briefing them. But several of the boarding students had gone out to shop or eat or on other Sunday errands, and Miho and Ren had been left with choosing who they would follow. Chiyoko had been cast to portray the Hannya itself in Dojoji, and so when she and her friend had left the dorm, the decision had been instant. No matter that it might leave others unwatched and therefore more vulnerable-they could only be in one place at a time.

“We had to choose,” she said to Ren.

“That’s my point,” he replied. “What if we chose wrong? Then this is all for nothing. We can’t possibly watch them all. This is wrong. We’ve got to tell people now, before it’s too late.”

Miho took a deep breath. She knew he was right. “When we get back to the dorm tonight, we’ll talk to the others. Kara may argue-mainly because she doesn’t want to embarrass her father-but I agree with you.”

Ren gave a short nod, fixing a kind of contract between them, but then he returned his attention to the sweet shop. Chiyoko really did seem to have been in the shop a long time. Several more seconds ticked by before he took a step out from under the tree.

“Do you think we should go in?” he asked.

Just then the door of the shop clicked open and Chiyoko and her friend emerged, as though summoned by the question. Ren retreated to Miho’s side and the two faced each other, smiling and muttering bits of nothing in low voices, pretending not to notice Chiyoko at all. Miho felt silly, and not at all convincing in this ruse. Even if Ren had been her boyfriend she would not have flirted so openly and completely as she now pretended to. But Chiyoko and her friend chatted happily, thrusting their hands into a shared bag of some sort of sugary candy, and walked on by, in the general direction of the school.

“All set?” Ren asked.

Miho smiled, blushing a bit. “Feeling very silly, but yes. Let’s go.”

They turned, hand in hand, and followed Chiyoko and her friend. The girls meandered a bit, but as they crossed the street and passed in front of a small shoe store, Miho realized their trajectory would not lead them to the school at all. Instead, the two girls went up a small staircase into the train station.

“What now?” Ren muttered.

“Shush,” Miho said, squeezing his hand.

They waited a few seconds before they followed, walking into the station as though it truly was their destination. Miho didn’t understand. Chiyoko should have been scared. Nearly everyone she had spoken to had seemed at least unnerved by Yasu’s death, and wanted to be cautious. But perhaps to Chiyoko, caution just meant not being out in the dark alone.

Her mind raced. Chiyoko had to be going into Miyazu City. Maybe she and her friend were meeting boys from a different school, or had some special shop to visit. Perhaps her friend didn’t live in the dorm and they were going to her house for the night. That made more sense than anything, considering it was a Sunday night. They had no school tomorrow, but the rest of Miyazu City hadn’t changed its schedule. Most of the shops would be closed by now, or closing soon. The city slowed down on Sunday night-there just wasn’t a lot to do.

Eight other people stood on the platform, waiting for the train. Miho and Ren held back, lingering near the entrance to the platform. They could see Chiyoko fine from where they stood. Nothing could possibly happen to her there, with other train riders around. Yet something troubled Miho, making her pulse quicken. The small hairs on the back of her neck bristled and she peered around her at every narrow corner and closed-off exit. The lights on the platform were dim and flickering, and only served to make the dark places darker. Something didn’t feel right.

“We should go. It would be too obvious if we followed them onto the train. They would want to know why we were stalking them. And since we don’t have any idea where they’re going… we really should just go back,” Ren said, and backed up a step, looking to her to follow.

Miho grabbed his wrist. “Wait until the train comes.”

“Why-”

“Please, let’s just wait.” She glanced around again, nudging Ren into the dome of light thrown by a wanly gleaming bulb above. Beyond the edges of that circle of light, the dark seemed to insinuate itself, moving nearer, closing in around her like the inexorable creep of the tide coming in.

The shriek of the train’s brakes, so much like a scream, made her flinch. Her heart pounded. Somehow she hadn’t heard the train coming.

“Are you all right?” Ren asked, squeezing her hand.

She smiled to give him a reassurance she did not feel. “Yes. I’m sorry. The tension is terrible, that’s all.”

As they watched, the people waiting on the platform all boarded the train, including Chiyoko and her friend. For just an instant before she vanished into the train’s interior, Chiyoko glanced back and caught Miho’s eyes. A flicker of recognition sparked there, and curiosity.

Chiyoko gave a little wave.

Miho waved back.

Then the train doors closed with an irritating pinging noise, and started to pull out of the station, airflow gusting around it. She and Ren waited until the train had departed, and then Miho felt him exhale beside her.

“That’s all we can do tonight, I guess.”

When Miho spoke, it came as a surprise to her. She hadn’t even been aware of intending to do so until she heard her own voice.

“Ren,” she said.

Something in her tone alarmed him and he turned, stepping in close, holding her shoulders and studying her face. “What’s wrong?”

Miho could not reply. She stared past him, at the broad, open space where the train had just passed. Down on the tracks, something stirred, perhaps nothing more than discarded newspapers eddying on the breeze. Yet the sound whispered up to her, insinuating itself in her mind, and it seemed so much like a hiss.

With the train gone, and the station now empty, the sense of presence ought to have departed as well. But it hadn’t. Miho could feel something else there with them, and just as this thought began to form into a coherent belief, and her fear started to crystallize, she saw the shadows bunch and gather in the space between platforms, down on the tracks.

“Miho!” Ren said, his voice urgent. He snapped his fingers in front of her eyes, and then she knew she had been mesmerized, for she could not turn away.

Somewhere far off, she heard a church bell toll heavily, as though a funeral procession had passed by.

Then Miho saw her, on the other side of the tracks: a female figure in the shadows. She strode forward, picking up speed, nearly at a run, and when she reached the space between the platforms she stepped right onto the shadows and walked across as though no gap existed.

A tear ran down Miho’s cheek.

Ren twisted and swore under his breath when he saw the dark figure gliding toward them. He slammed Miho in the chest with his open palm and shoved her away.

“Run!” he told her.

She started to. Wanted to. But after four steps, she could only stop and watch as Ren tried to play the hero. He stood in the path of that beautiful, ethereal creature, and the Hannya changed. She opened her mouth in a hiss that unhinged her jaws, spraying venom from glistening fangs. Horns pushed up through the flesh and bone of her forehead and she became, in an instant, the monstrous countenance that the Noh mask could only hint at.

Miho screamed for Ren.

The Hannya picked him up and hurled him into the coalescing shadows. He slammed against the platform and rolled off, onto the tracks below. Miho heard him grunt, and then silence.

The darkness came alive around her. She stared at the place where the Hannya had been a moment before and thought she saw an afterimage of its dreadful eyes hanging in the night air, but it had vanished.

She took a step, ready to run, mouth open to scream, and then a loud hiss filled the darkness around her like static. No, she thought, as she looked down and saw the thick, serpentine coils around her legs, felt the weight of the creature twisting around her body, tugging her arms tight against her sides, suffocating her. Miho cried out, but then the breath left her as the shadow serpent tightened her grip.

Teeth pricked her neck, she felt pressure there, suction, and a deep ache. Then the darkness crashed in at the edges of her vision and oblivion swallowed her whole.

Even before Ren reached consciousness, he felt the pain. Knives jabbed his back and twisted in the ribs under his right arm, and an iron grip clamped around the rear of his skull. Moaning, he woke and drew quick, sharp breaths, panic setting in. How badly had he hurt himself?

He lay on his side, afraid to move, each breath making his injuries throb with fresh spikes of pain. Low voices muttered nearby and he blinked to focus his eyes. At first he had thought himself lost in darkness, but now he saw that he had fallen at an angle that gave him a view of the shadows beneath an overhanging part of the train platform.

I’m on the tracks.

In the back of his mind, he had known it, but now the reality struck him. He would have to move, and soon. A sorrowful sort of fear clutched at him. If his injuries were really bad, wouldn’t he only hurt himself worse by moving?

Those voices.

“Hello? Is someone there?” he said, trying to call out but managing only a painful rasp. “Hello!”

The voices up on the platform seemed to pause a moment, but then they went on. Ren took a breath. It hurt, but he realized that some of the worst pain had retreated. Perhaps he had wrenched his back, even cracked some ribs, without actually breaking anything.

Gingerly, he reached his left hand up to probe at the back of his skull. His fingers came away damp and sticky with what could only be blood, and his hair felt matted. Ren squeezed his eyes closed, pulse racing, but forced himself to continue his investigation. As he pushed his fingers through his hair, he found the cut on his scalp, but only that. His head throbbed with pain from striking it against the ground or the metal rail, but he realized he probably didn’t have anything worse than a concussion.

Okay, he thought.

“Hello!” he called again, starting to sit up. The pain that shot up his back made him suck air in through his teeth, but once he’d gotten into a sitting position it wasn’t as bad.

Why hadn’t the people on the platform heard him? Why hadn’t they come over to see where his voice was coming from?

Ren froze. His left leg lay across one of the tracks and he could feel it begin to vibrate, thrumming with the tremor and weight of an oncoming train. Only then did he hear the low groan of the train approaching. The people on the platform hadn’t heard him over the rising rumble, and he could no longer hear them.

He twisted around to get onto his knees, and now he could see the lights coming around the long curve toward the station. Pain seized him, lancing into his back, but a rush of adrenaline got him up onto his feet. Cursing, frantic, Ren crossed the tracks to the platform’s edge.

Air blasted past him, pushed ahead of the incoming train. Ren cried out in fear as the train thundered into the station, its roar obliterating his voice. Seven or eight people were scattered on the platform. One little girl, holding her mother’s hand, turned and spotted him, pointed and said something to her mother, but her words, too, were stolen by the guttural snarl of the train.

Brakes squealed, echoing off the walls of the station.

Ren raised his hands, pain shooting through him, nearly making him falter, but then boosted himself up onto the platform, rolling out of the way with seconds to spare. The train lumbered to a hissing stop beside him. He lay on his back, still racked with throbbing pain, and stared at the ceiling of the station.

Two men in business suits bent over to look down at him. One of them asked if he was all right, but the other went off on a tirade about how stupid he’d been. Didn’t he know that he could have been killed?

Ren laughed at them for a few seconds, until the adrenaline began to subside and he felt the jolts of pain that the laughter cost him. The men shook their heads and boarded the train. Moments later, it began to move again, straining to roll along its tracks like a sled dog in its traces, picking up speed.

He lay there, catching his breath, heart pounding inside his chest, and as the fear and pain subsided, he remembered how he had gotten there in the first place.

“Miho! Oh, no.”

Ren reached into his pocket and plucked out his cell phone. Its face had been cracked in the fall, but the crystal display still showed a signal. Praying, he called Kara.

Kara ended the call with Ren and turned to stare at Hachiro, clutching her phone in her hand. Her eyes welled up but she bit her lip, not allowing the tears to fall. She didn’t have time to cry.

“What is it?” Hachiro said, his gaze urgent. “Talk to me, Kara. What did Ren say?”

They stood in the genkan, surrounded by cubbyholes filled with blue and pink slippers. The lights in the genkan were bright, but they only made the night outside the glass doors seem even darker. Kara reached up with her free hand and pushed her hair away from her face, fingers fluttering.

“You’re trembling,” Hachiro said.

Kara steadied herself and reached out to grip his shoulder, taking strength from him. “The Hannya came after Ren and Miho. It threw him onto the train tracks. He’s hurt, but not badly. But Miho…”

She faltered, her throat closing up, and then she couldn’t stop herself. Tears began to flow and she shook all over. Hachiro pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. For several seconds they stood like that, and then Kara became angry at her own indulgence. She pulled away, wiping at her tears and thrusting her phone into her pocket.

“Ren thinks he was unconscious for about twenty minutes. When he came around, Miho was gone. The Hannya took her.”

Hachiro nodded. “Then we’ll find her. We will find her.”

Kara shook her head. “Not alone we won’t. It’s time to tell someone. We should’ve done this before. I’ve been so stupid.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Hachiro said.

“Sure I can. But blame can wait.”

She turned and strode deeper into the school, took a right and broke into a run. Hachiro kept pace with her and when they reached the door to the basement stairs, Kara shoved it open and then they were pounding down the steps. They knew that three of the Noh club students they’d been keeping track of were still in the art room, storing away the masks and set pieces that had already been created for the play. Miss Aritomo would wait until they were all gone before locking up after them.

Kara and Hachiro rushed along the basement corridor to the art room, slowing as they approached the door. Just outside, they stopped. Kara caught her breath and glanced at Hachiro, afraid of what she was about to do, afraid that Miss Aritomo wouldn’t believe her, that her father would be humiliated, and worst of all, that it wouldn’t help Miho even if they did believe her.

Please, God, let her be all right.

She stepped into the art room with Hachiro right behind her. The three students were cleaning up after themselves, one boy sweeping, another moving chairs, and a girl sitting on a table. They looked up, expressions curious.

“Hi. Sorry. Isn’t Aritomo-sensei here?” Kara asked.

“She’s in her homeroom,” replied the sweeping boy. “She had work to do.”

Kara nodded and turned away, not giving them another thought. Hachiro led the way, but they found the doors to Miss Aritomo’s homeroom closed. Like those upstairs, they were the sliding doors so common in Japan. Kara knocked on the frame.

“Aritomo-sensei?” she ventured. “It’s me, Kara.”

They waited a few seconds. She grimaced and looked at Hachiro. He nodded toward the door.

“Try again,” he suggested.

But as Kara raised her fist to knock, she paused, frowning. From within the classroom she’d heard a sound, low and insinuating and hideously familiar. Now it came once more and there could be no doubt. This was no breeze, no voice, no rustle of pages being turned. The hiss brought her back to that night in the dark, when the Hannya had pursued Miho, and she knew that it was there right now, on the other side of the thin door.

It had come for Miss Aritomo.

Ice flooded her veins. She wanted to scream, to run, but instead she reached out a shaking hand for the door. Hachiro snatched her wrist, stopping her, and she turned to see her own fear reflected back from his eyes.

Firmly, she pulled her hand away. As quietly as possible, she reached for the door and slid it open just a crack. Kara pressed her right eye to the opening. At first she saw only the light above Miss Aritomo’s desk-the overhead lights were off. A dull glow of moonlight shone in the small box windows near the ceiling.

Then she saw a pale arm outstretched on the floor, beyond the reach of the desk lamp. The moment she noticed it, the rest of the dark silhouette on the floor came into sharp focus, and she saw the gentle, pretty features of Miss Aritomo. The teacher did not move, but in the gloom Kara could not see any sign of blood or injury, or even if she still drew breath.

Aritomo-sensei. The name was on her lips, but before Kara could speak, the hiss came again, now from the shadows at the back of the room. Kara had seen the masks hanging on the wall there so many times that she had barely noticed their baleful expressions back in the shadows.

Then one of them moved, and she realized that one was not a mask at all. Kara’s throat went dry. Rigid with terror, she could only watch as the Hannya emerged from the shadows and knelt beside Miss Aritomo. It reached slender, clawed hands toward the petite, helpless woman, and Kara wanted to scream but could not find the courage. Hachiro touched her arm but she barely recognized the contact.

The Hannya diminished even as she watched. In the space between eyeblinks, the horned face of the demon became that of a seductive woman, and the woman began to lie beside Miss Aritomo, only to alter her form further. Demon had become temptress, and now woman became serpent, a thing of red and green so dark as to appear almost black, with tiny horns that seemed more dragon than snake.

As it slithered onto Miss Aritomo’s body in a lithe, intimate coil, it shrank even further. The serpent’s head prodded at the sleeping teacher’s lips and Miss Aritomo’s mouth opened, her head falling back.

The demon slid past her lips and down her throat, vanishing inside her.

Kara could not move. Could not breathe.

Then Miss Aritomo opened her eyes.

Kara jumped back from the door, shaking her head at the impossible. She twisted to look at Hachiro, who only looked mystified. His view blocked by her body, he had seen none of it. He opened his mouth to speak and, eyes wide with terror, she shook her head more firmly, grabbed his wrist, and together they ran.

Her mind whirled as she tried to make sense of what she had seen. All she knew was that Miho needed her. And then she thought of her father-her dad-who had fallen in love with the woman Kara had seen inside that classroom.

A woman with a demon inside her.