Christopher Golden - A Winter of Ghosts

They went up two steps to theporch. It reminded her of the sort of wooden walkways she'd always seen in oldwestern movies, where the facades of the buildings in every town were builtwith walkways elevated a foot or so off the ground so that people didn't haveto walk through mud and horse crap.

Through a glass door she couldsee that another walkway ran around the inside of the cottage, parallel to theone outside. This was called a roka ,and in good weather it would usually be open to the elements, the sliding doorsremoved and the interior protected from the rain by the extended roof. Moresliding doors separated the roka from the inside of the house, but these were made of wood and paper so thinthat it would allow sunlight to pass through.

Mr. Yamato rang a small bellthat hung by the door. Kara could not imagine that the old man would actuallyhear the sound unless he were standing right behind the door, but just beforeMr. Yamato would have rung the bell again the door swung inward, snowflakesdancing across the threshold.

"Yamato-san," Kubosaid. "Honorable friends. Welcome to my home."

The elderly monk stepped back tolet them enter, watching them as they stepped through the door one by one, hisstance and expression evoking a birdlike curiosity. His hair was thin and whiteand long enough that he tied it into a knot at the back of his head. His beardand eyebrows were shaggy and matched the color of the snow, as though he mightbe a winter spirit himself, some male counterpart of Yuki-Onna. If he had beenwearing a kimono or any sort of robe, Kara would have thought she had steppedback in time, or into some samurai movie. But the cloud-walker apparentlypreferred more modern clothes. He wore loose-fitting tan trousers that wereragged at the cuffs, a thick cobalt blue sweater, and a pair of black slippers.

His outfit made her smile, anddistracted her enough that it took Kara a moment to realize she had seen himbefore.

The moment of recognition wasmutual. Kubo smiled.

"I take it you have seenmore ghosts," he said.

Kara took off her shoes in thegenkan, just as the others were doing, but she could not help staring at TheUnsui. It had been him she had seen riding his bicycle along her street in theearly hours of the morning, when she had been chasing ghosts and her father hadcome out after her. A quick glance at her father told her that he hadrecognized the elderly monk as well.

Tempted to barrage him withquestions, she nearly forgot to pay him the proper respect. Mustering herself-control, she bowed her head.

"It is nice to see youagain, Kubo-san," she said. "I was surprised to see anyone on thestreet this morning."

Sakura and Miho were staring ather in confusion and Miss Aritomo and Mr. Yamato were watching her father,obviously surprised that the Harpers seemed to know the old monk.

"I am restless when theworld is most quiet," Kubo said. "Old habits are difficult to break. Fortunately,the fattest, tastiest fish are also restless in the quiet hours, and so I rideto the bay to retrieve them for my plate."

He gestured toward the others."Please, come in."

Kubo walked along the roka to the nearest of the shoji - the thin paper doors — and slid it open. Another step up broughtthem into the old man's i-ma , or living space. The house Kara lived inwith her father had movable partitions and sliding doors called fusuma ,which were something like shoji butthicker. The layout of the house could be changed to suit any purpose, and eachroom except for the kitchen and bathroom could become bedroom, living room,dining room, or office with very little effort. But most of Kubo's cottage wastaken up by a single large i-ma. Tatami mats covered the floor in squaresections. At the center of the room was a large table that she recognized asthe sort that came with an electric heater beneath it that would emanate warmthto those around it.

"If you will makeyourselves comfortable, I will serve tea," Kubo said.

"We would be most gratefulfor something to warm us," Mr. Yamato replied.

Kara knew that respect and honorwere paramount in Japanese culture, but still she was impressed by thereverence that Mr. Yamato showed to the Unsui. The old monk had been a friendof his grandfather's, but she thought his deep respect came from a deeperacknowledgement of the spiritual nature of the old man. Or maybe she wasreading too much into it.

Miss Aritomo busily arrangedpillows and indicated where the girls should sit, and then the adults sat, too,so that by the the time a fusuma slid aside and the old man shuffled into theroom, slippers shushing on tatami mats, they were all settled there. Karawatched the way he balanced the tray, thinking someone should help him. And yetthe cups did not rattle and the teapot did not seem too heavy for him.

Kubo set the tray upon the tableand went back to slide the door closed.

When he had settled down on apillow of his own, he poured tea for his guests. No one spoke. Kara felt theurgency of Hachiro's predicament, as well as the sense of peril that hung abovethem all thanks to the curse of Kyuketsuki, but no one would rush him. She usedthe time, instead, to study the old monk.

Despite the whiteness of hishair and beard, she would never have guessed his age to be above seventy, andeven then only becaues of the lines on his face. They seemed more like echoesof all of the smiles and curious frowns of his life than like wrinkles. Physically,he seemed almost as fit as her own father, who could not have been more thanhalf Kubo's age. And the simple way he dressed warmed her to him as instantlyas had his smile upon greeting them.

But now, as he regarded each ofthem in turn, she saw a sad gravity in his eyes.

"Please," Kubo said,picking up his own tea cup.

He sipped, and the rest of themfollowed suit.

"Master Kubo," Mr.Yamato began, "we are honored that you have invited us into your home, andhumbled by your hospitality. My grandfather liked to say that he never had abetter friend than Kubo, and I hope that we will continue that traditionbetween our families."

The Unsui smiled. "I haveno family, Yamato-san, and your grandfather was a better friend to me than I tohim." The old monk tipped a wink at Miho, who smiled shyly. "I gotyour sensei's grandpa in a lot of trouble, once upon a time."

Mr. Yamato smiled as well."Any help you can offer would be gratefully received."

Kubo flapped a hand in the air,once again reminding Kara of a bird.

"I require no gratitude,"he said, as though offended. "If these snows have brought Yuki-Onna to ourcity, I will do all that I can to help. I have not heard of the Winter Witchappearing in my lifetime, though my grandmother claimed that her mother's mosthandsome brother had been taken by the Woman in White one cruel December."

Kara held her breath. With thosewords alone he had commanded their attention. A year ago she would have heardthe story as nothing more than superstition and folklore, but now she took itas a given that others had encountered Yuki-Onna before.

"Do you know how we canmake her go away?" Kara asked.

Kubo sipped his tea. The othersall ignored theirs, waiting for his reply.

"I do not know of any wayto drive her back to the spirit world," The Unsui said, and Kara felt herheart sink. "If the weather turns and the snows melt, then she will vanishwith it."

"But that might not beuntil spring," Sakura said.

Kubo nodded grimly and sippedhis tea again. Holding the small cup in his hands, he surveyed his gatheredguests.

"Tell me the story of howyou believe we have come to this moment. Leave nothing out."

Mr. Yamato and Kara's fatherlooked at Miss Aritomo.

"It began with Kyuketsuki,"the art teacher said. "Kara, you should tell it."

Kara shook her head. "No. Itreally started with Akane, and that isn't my story to tell."