Thomas Randall - The Waking

“Fine,” Kara went on, sitting down on the edge of Miho’s bed, locking eyes with Sakura. “You think Akane’s come back, that she’s giving us these dreams, that she’s the one who killed Chouku and Jiro, and made Hana jump off the roof, because they were all involved in her murder. Maybe they were. And maybe you’re right and Ume really did have something to do with it, too.”

Sakura’s nostrils flared, her expression cold. “And you think I’m crazy.”

Kara and Miho exchanged a look.

“Not entirely,” Kara said. Her heart raced and she felt her face flush. God, it’s so hard to say this stuff out loud, she thought. “Okay, a lot of people would think the whole thing was nuts. Ghosts? Spirits of murdered girls back from the dead? That’s pretty crazy. But Miho and I… we’ve been talking about it. What’s going on here isn’t normal. There’s something awful at this school. I feel like a total idiot using the word ‘evil,’ but I know what I feel.”

This last bit felt to Kara like a plea, and emotion welled up in her. Fear and desperation made her voice quaver.

“You’re talking about vampires again, aren’t you?” Sakura said, crossing her arms almost petulantly.

“Not exactly,” Kara said.

Miho took a breath before speaking. “You know the legend of the ketsuki?”

Sakura rolled her eyes, but instead of humor, a grim anger emanated from her. “Seriously? That’s so much easier to believe? I’ve seen the looks between the two of you, I know what you think. I’m losing my mind. I miss Akane so much that I’m wishing for this to be true. But I don’t wish it! I wish she was still alive, not a thing, not a spirit killing people! But she was my sister, and if she can’t rest because the police are such fools they don’t know how to make her killers pay, then she should rise! She should make them pay!”

Kara nodded. “Maybe she should. But I don’t think it’s Akane.”

Sakura threw up her hands, then turned away, wiping tears from her eyes. “How insane is this whole conversation? They’ll lock us all up if they hear us talking like this.”

Miho went to sit beside her, pulled her into an embrace. For a while, Sakura wept into the soft fabric of Miho’s sweatshirt. At last she steadied her breath and pulled away, looking up first at Miho and then at Kara.

“What makes you so sure it’s a ketsuki?”

Kara hesitated, running her tongue over dry lips.

Miho answered for her. “It came for Kara last night.”

Sakura’s eyes widened. “What?”

Kara nodded. “If Miho hadn’t woken my father, I’d probably be.. .”

She couldn’t say dead, but she did not need to. Miho and Sakura both knew what word she had left out.

Sakura sat a moment, taking that in, and then she shook her head.

“No. It’s Akane.”

“Sakura?” Miho said in surprise.

“You imagined it,” Sakura said, simmering with anger. “Akane’s back. I know it. I can feel her when she’s near. She wants justice. The police wouldn’t give it to her, so she’s taking it in blood, the way the old spirits always did.”

“You’re wrong,” Kara said, shaking her head, trying to get through to her friend. “I saw it. And even if I hadn’t, why would she come after me? I never even knew her.”

“Maybe she was there to frighten you because you don’t believe,” Sakura said, lips curling into cruelty now. “Or maybe she just doesn’t like you.”

“That’s not fair,” Miho said, reaching for her hand.

Sakura pushed her away. As they stared at her, she stood and pulled on pants and a sweater, slipped into shoes, and went to the door.

“Wait, Sakura,” Miho pleaded. “Don’t go.”

She didn’t even hesitate, slamming the door as she went out.

Miho turned to Kara, eyes pleading. “What are we going to do?”

Kara gnawed on her lower lip. “She’s having the dreams, too. If the ketsuki comes for her, she’ll go willingly, thinking it’s Akane. We can’t let her be here by herself anymore.”

Miho stared at the closed door. “We’re going to have to stop it, aren’t we?”

“Someone has to.”

“How?” Miho asked.

Kara shrugged, troubled but no longer confused. She felt strangely awake now. “I’m not sure. Nobody else will believe us. You’re leaving in a couple of days. But we have to… Wait a second.” Kara turned to Miho, mind racing, forcing herself not to succumb to the powerful temptation to pretend none of it was real. They both knew it was real. Denying it might cost Sakura her life. “You said there was a Noh play about the ketsuki. We should ask Miss Aritomo about it.”

Miho thought about that a moment, then nodded. “She might be busy dealing with parents, like your father, but let’s see if we can find her.”

A ripple of anticipation went through Kara. They might be crazy, but it felt good to be taking some kind of action.

“I should go tell my father I might be a while,” she said.

“Okay. I want to take a shower anyway. I’ll meet you on the school steps in half an hour?” Miho suggested.

Kara stood up. “See you there.”

The new school term had barely started, really, and already it was coming to a close. Boxes and suitcases and trunks were being carried out of the dorm. In a way, that seemed fitting to Kara. It felt like many weeks had passed since school had begun-since she had walked so nervously toward Monju-no-Chie School-instead of a comparative handful of days. She remembered vividly how anxious she had been and how Sakura and Miho had set her at ease.

She left the dorm and strode across the field, going toward the trees that lined the opposite side. Sakura had taken off quickly, and Kara expected to find her in the arch of that recessed door on the east side of the school, smoking a cigarette, hiding out. That first day she’d had her uniform jacket inside out, all of those badges and patches on the inside, and Kara had thought Sakura was so cool, that the girl had it all together.

But even back then, she’d been falling apart.

How did you not notice? she wondered now. If not then, when you found out about her sister? How did you not know how broken she was inside?

Kara couldn’t blame herself, though. Miho hadn’t noticed either, and they were roommates. And Sakura hadn’t really begun to fray at the edges until the nightmares came and Jiro died.

If all of this was real-if she and Miho weren’t completely freaking out and seeing things that weren’t there-then they had to be so careful now. The ketsuki had come after Kara, but at least she knew it wanted to hurt her. Sakura felt righteous and invincible. She needed help desperately, and her parents weren’t even returning calls from the school.

When she walked around the side of the building, she peered past the small trees up against the wall, into the deep shadows of that recessed doorway, in the shadow of the overhanging pagoda roof. So certain had she been that, for a moment, she thought she saw a figure there. But the little alcove was empty. Only cigarette butts, stubbed out in the dirt, remained.

With a sigh, Kara continued on. The ancient prayer shrine to her right loomed in the shadows of the trees, damp with rain and unattended. No candles burned there today. Students had been busy this year building shrines of a different sort. The one in memory of Akane still remained down by the bay. A second one had been established for Jiro just a few yards away, with photographs and candles and T-shirts, pins and bits of school uniforms, stuffed animals and toys left as little mementos, offerings from those who missed him. At the back of the school, where Hana had struck the ground after leaping from the roof, a third shrine had been created.