Thomas Randall - Spirits of the Noh

“Really,” she said, going back to painting, taking a deep breath, forcing her fingers to hold steady. “When I asked Sakura at dinner, I wasn’t trying to recruit you. I hope you didn’t think-”

“Miho,” Ren said.

She finished the line of the lower eyelid and glanced up.

Ren smiled. His bronze hair stuck up in spiky tufts. “It’s really not a major thing. Sakura has a paper to finish, and I don’t. You didn’t drag me here in chains, I volunteered. Besides, we don’t usually hang out just the two of us. I thought it would be nice.”

Miho’s heart raced and her skin prickled. His eyes were like copper. She nodded once.

“It is nice,” she said. “Very.”

Ren seemed to study her a moment, curiosity piqued. Miho glanced down at the mask she was working on, brain slightly frozen, and then remembered what to do next. She set about switching colors, dabbing a brush in gold paint to fill in the eyes. She would add the pupils at the end. As she worked, she wondered if he had been leading anywhere with those comments. Had he meant that he wanted to spend time with her, just the two of them, because he liked her? What would happen now? Would he ask her out? What would Sakura do? What, with her American upbringing, would Kara do?

Long minutes passed in silence and she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Resolutely refusing to look up, turned almost completely away from him, she spoke.

“We’re all going to the Toro Nagashi Festival on Saturday night, right?”

“Definitely,” Ren replied.

“Maybe you and I could go together,” she said, so quickly and quietly that for a second she wasn’t even sure if the words had come out, if she’d had the courage to say them.

Miho stared into the single, finished gold eye of the demon mask on the table in front of her, and it stared back, and again she felt frozen.

“We are going together,” Ren said, a chuckle in his voice. “Didn’t we just establish… oh. Wait, you meant… oh.”

She closed her eyes tightly, flushing now with an entirely different sort of embarrassment. Her stomach ached. Mortified, she had no idea what to say next, and then Ren touched her arm and, as though commanded by some stage hypnotist, she turned toward him.

The sympathy in his eyes almost killed her.

“Miho, I think you’re wonderful. You’re smart and kind and gentle, and passionate about the things you love, and you’re a very pretty girl,” Ren said, but as much as she ought to have been thrilled by those words, she could sense the but coming. “The trouble is, and don’t take this the wrong way, you’re really not my type.”

She shook her head, backing away, wishing she could disappear into a crack in the floor or snap her fingers and just vanish. The smile that appeared on her face came from nowhere, born of anything but humor, and it felt like it would crack her face.

“No, it’s… I understand… I’m-”

Ren sighed. “I really thought you knew. I can’t believe they didn’t tell you.”

Miho blinked. “Tell me what?”

He hesitated, then turned up his hands and gave an apologetic shrug. “I don’t date girls. It isn’t something I talk about. I mean, we’re supposed to ‘fit in,’ right? So only a few people know. But I just assumed the girls would have told you.”

After the first sentence, her cheeks began to burn.

Backing away, she shook her head. “God, I’m so stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ren said, sadness touching his face. “That would be terrible.”

Miho glanced down, realized she had taken another step away from him, and hated that he might be getting the wrong idea. But she couldn’t stay. Humiliation made her want to scream.

“That’s… that’s not what I meant,” she managed. And then she took another step away from him. “You are an excellent friend, Ren. I wish I could say the same for all of my friends.”

“Wait,” he said, getting it. “Don’t blame them. I told you, it’s not something-”

Miho uttered a strangled laugh. “I’ve got to go.”

She turned and fled the dining room, leaving Ren with the masks and the paint and the mess, and knowing he would clean it all up and take as much care with the masks as she herself would have. He really was a good friend.

The soles of her shoes squeaked on the floor as she rushed down the corridor toward the front door of the dormitory. Straight-armed, she pushed it open and went down the front steps, striding so quickly that she nearly broke into a run. The large school building, with its pagoda-esque roof, stood silhouetted against the dark sky ahead. Night had finally fallen, but any anxiety Miho felt had given way to her humiliation and anger. She cut a diagonal path along the grassy expanse that separated the dorm from the school, a lawn that doubled as a sports field. The moon was bright tonight, and her shadow ran alongside her.

On the east side of the school, perhaps thirty feet separated the building from the tree line, and at night it seemed a dark alley. She passed the ancient Shinto prayer shrine on the right, focused on the recessed doorway on her left. This was Sakura’s favorite smoking spot, but the shadows there were empty.

Continuing around to the front of the school, she headed north across the grounds, walked the path that took her beneath the decorative arch at the edge of the property, and then a short way down the street to the little house where Kara lived with her father. A quiet voice in the back of Miho’s head reminded her that it might not be the best idea to bother one of her teachers at home, but Harper-sensei had always been very kind and open, and Kara was her friend, after all.

Yes, Miho thought. My friend.

She made a fist, took a breath, and rapped on the door. There were lights on inside, but only a few, and it seemed very quiet. Miho fidgeted on the stoop for perhaps ten seconds before she knocked again, unable to help herself.

“Just a moment,” Harper-sensei called from within.

She heard the lock click and then the door slid open. The teacher wore blue jeans and a white T-shirt. He was barefoot and his hair stuck up at odd angles like he had been asleep or reading in bed. When he saw her, Harper-sensei’s eyes widened slightly.

“Miho? Is everything okay? Is Kara all right?”

She frowned in confusion. “She isn’t here?”

That seemed to bring him up short. He ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “No. She went out for a walk with her guitar a while ago. I’m a little concerned about her being out after dark. You, too, for that matter.”

Miho cocked her head. “Why?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but even as he did, she understood. Missing kids. Harper-sensei either did not believe Daisuke and Wakana had run away together, or he was being very cautious.

Whatever he might have said, he seemed to change his mind. Mustering a smile, he studied Miho more closely.

“You’re here looking for her?”

“It can wait.”

“Is everything all right?” Harper-sensei asked.

“Yes,” she lied. “Thank you, sensei.”

Without another word, she started to walk away, hoping it wouldn’t seem too rude. Kara’s father called after her, promising to tell Kara she had stopped by and suggesting she get back to her dorm before curfew, although Miho knew she had more than an hour before she would be considered late.

Time enough to keep looking, if she wanted to. But as she’d told Harper-sensei, it could wait. That part hadn’t been a lie. She felt stupid and angry, and doubted any of that would have faded by morning. If Sakura wasn’t already back at their room, she would be soon, and Miho would have it out with her tonight.

Tomorrow morning, it would be Kara’s turn.