Thomas Randall - Spirits of the Noh

The northern perimeter of the school grounds stretched for quite a distance, beginning with the bay shore where Akane Murakami had been killed. Perhaps two hundred yards west, a road began. Parking spaces were slotted along its termination point, made for people who wished to stop there and take in the scenic view of Ama-no-Hashidate. A left turn led into the school and dormitory parking lots. Traveling straight ahead, the road continued westward, away from Miyazu Bay, and a right turn led past Kara’s house, to the train and bus stations, and in the distance, to the heart of Miyazu City.

Kara hadn’t gone very far from home. She perched on a rock wall not far from the empty tourist parking spots at the bottom of the dead-end road. When she’d left her house, fuming at her father, she’d intended to head over to the grassy slope on the bay shore where Akane had died. It was the most beautiful part of the school grounds, after all, and if she really believed that these disappearances had nothing to do with Kyuketsuki’s curse, why should she avoid it? If her father didn’t want her to be out after dark, all the more reason to be in the place that would have frightened him most, if he knew what had happened there.

Instead, she had made it only as far as the dead-end, and decided she would be more comfortable on the rock wall, where she could dangle her legs while she played her guitar. That was what she told herself, anyway.

As dusk had closed in and night fell, she had kept playing, pretending that Daisuke and Wakana were not on her mind at all, and aware that she was pretending. Too many thoughts and emotions warred inside her, about her father and Miss Aritomo, about her mother and what it meant to start over, and about the way Mr. Yamato had behaved that morning.

Mostly, she kept wondering why, when there was no reason at all to think the disappearances were anything more than they appeared, she couldn’t convince herself of that. No matter how many times she tried to reassure herself, that niggling suspicion remained. It didn’t feel right. Perhaps that was Kyuketsuki’s real curse. Would Kara feel this way for the rest of her life? Every time something bad happened, would she check the shadows for monsters?

Not long after dark, her hands grew tired and her guitar fell silent. What she wanted more than anything was just someone to talk to about this, but she felt guilty bringing it up to Miho or Sakura. Either one of them would be happy to trade their two parents for one, if that one would have cared about them as much as Kara’s father did about her. But that didn’t lessen her frustration with her dad, or her anxiety about where this whole thing with Miss Aritomo would lead.

Then, as she sat there, she realized who she could talk to. Duh, she thought. Way to go, Harper. He’s only supposed to be your boyfriend.

Shifting her guitar to one side, she fished her cell phone out of her pocket. The breeze rustled her blond hair, which she’d left a mess when she’d bolted out of her house. The last thing she’d been thinking about was her appearance. Rippling with the wind, the water lapped against the rough ground a dozen feet below the edge of the retaining wall. The moonlight shone on the bay and glinted off small stones on the shore beneath her dangling feet, and as she slid open her cell phone, she could picture it shattering if it fell from here-or her guitar, if the strap came loose.

Kara clutched them both more tightly as she scrolled her contacts list and thumbed the button for Hachiro. It rang only twice before he picked up.

“This is a nice surprise,” he said.

“Are you still dressed?” she asked without thinking. Then, blushing a bit, she backtracked. “That didn’t come out right.”

“It’s an interesting way to start a conversation,” Hachiro said. “You sound upset. Wait, what’s that noise?”

“The wind,” she explained. The way her head was cocked, the breeze blew against the phone and made a shushing noise. “I’m not upset, I’m

… okay, maybe I am, but not with you. I had an argument with my father earlier. Now I’m a wandering…”

She tried to think of a Japanese word that was the equivalent of minstrel or troubadour, but could only come up with ongakuka, which meant “musician,” so she took another tack.

“I’m out by the bay with my guitar but I don’t feel like playing anymore and I’m still too upset to go home. If you’re still dressed, do you want to come outside and talk? I mean, we could talk on the phone, but-”

“For you, I’ll get dressed,” Hachiro interrupted.

That made Kara laugh, and already she felt some of her anxiety seeping out of her. “I’ll walk over and meet you in front of the dorm.”

“Okay. See you in a minute,” he replied, and the line went dead.

Hachiro had been sweet on the phone, but she wished he hadn’t hung up so fast. It would have been nice to chat with him as she walked. On the other hand, if he really did have to put some clothes on, that would have been difficult for him. She smiled at the image that came into her mind of him trying to pull on a T-shirt while talking on the phone, and slid her cell back into her pocket.

Swinging her guitar behind her back, she stood up and gazed out at the bay. It had a different sort of beauty at night, an ethereal calm that made her want to walk out to Ama-no-Hashidate and stroll the white sands. But that would have been too far to stray from home after dark. Her father hadn’t come looking for her, and probably wouldn’t unless she stayed out past the school’s curfew. He would want her to have some freedom, especially tonight. Give you your own space was how he would have put it.

But now, as she crossed the dead-end road and then started across the grounds toward the front of the school, she wanted less of her own space, not more. Despite the moonlight, the night had deepened, and off to her left, down the slope, she could see the shadows that gathered in the place where Akane had been murdered. With a shudder, she pulled her gaze away.

The way ahead of her was even darker. The school loomed ahead, a monolithic black outline silhouetted against the night sky, and to the left, where the east wall came so close to the trees, the path was nothing but inky shadows.

A little shiver went up the back of her neck and she couldn’t help but turn and look back the way she’d come. She felt watched, and it was not a welcome feeling. Picking up her pace, she hurried over to the corner of the school and plunged into the darkness, just wanting to get to Hachiro now, a part of her wondering if she should just have headed home.

Her guitar bounced a bit on its strap, clunking against her back. When she’d rushed out of the house earlier with it slung behind her, she’d felt cool, like someone out of a movie. Now it seemed ridiculous. Her guitar felt like a burden, and she didn’t like that at all.

The leaves rustled in the trees off to her left and she jerked away from them, heart pounding, and let out a little yelp of alarm that sounded to her ears like a cat’s yowl. She wanted to be embarrassed, but now the back of her neck felt warm and she couldn’t drive from her mind the certainty that unseen eyes were watching her.

Kara brought her guitar around in front of her and held it steady, for the first time considering it a potential weapon as she hurried through the darkest part of the night.

When she emerged from that narrow space onto the moonlit field behind the school, she did not breathe a sigh of relief. Only when she had made it nearly halfway across and saw Hachiro come out the front door of the dormitory did Kara allow herself to relax, and to smile at how much she’d let her imagination get the better of her.

Afraid of the dark, she thought. Big loser.