Thomas Randall - Spirits of the Noh

Her fingers lost their way on the strings, moving almost of their own accord, jumping from song to song before finally falling still.

With a sigh, Kara stood up, holding her guitar close, and stepped over the low fence. Off to her left, in the distance, she could see Monju-no-Chie school and the welcome arch at the edge of its grounds. As she started across the street, her father opened the door of their squat little house and blinked in surprise when he spotted her.

“Perfect timing,” he said with a smile.

“My stomach is psychically attuned to the precise moment of dinner’s readiness,” she said in English.

Her father arched an eyebrow as he stepped aside to let her in. “Hey. I thought we were supposed to stick to Japanese.”

Kara laughed. “You think I can say ‘psychically attuned’ in Japanese? You aren’t that good a teacher.”

He gaped in false astonishment and then glared with equally invented anger. “My dear,” he said in Japanese, “I am an exceptional teacher.”

“And modest, too.”

As they walked into the dining area, Miss Aritomo was pouring ice water into glasses from a pitcher. She smiled.

“You have a very pretty singing voice,” she said.

Kara bowed her head in thanks. “I didn’t realize I was singing so loud.”

“Not very loud,” Miss Aritomo replied. “But the window in the kitchen is open, and we could hear you while your father cooked the pork.”

Kara stared at her, forgetting for a moment to put on a smile for her father’s benefit. Miss Aritomo had sounded, for a moment, so much like a parent that it freaked her out. Part of her wanted to act out, to vanish into her bedroom and not come out, but that would be juvenile and it would be unfair to her father.

Instead she smiled. “Everything smells delicious.”

Miss Aritomo blinked, a moment of doubt shading her eyes. She’d sensed Kara’s hesitation, though Kara’s father seemed clueless. Before the situation could become awkward, Kara hurried to sit down. Dinner had already been served. There was a shiitake-mushroom rice and orange-simmered pork that really did smell wonderful.

“How was your day, Kara?” her father asked.

She smiled. “Hot.”

That set the three of them off on a conversation about the terrible heat of the week, combining misery with the relief that the forecast brought. It had cooled off significantly in the past few hours, and a thunderstorm was due to sweep through overnight, pushing the last of the heat wave out to sea. They talked and ate, and her father and Miss Aritomo had some plum wine, and soon any awkwardness Kara had felt dissipated. She was glad, for her father’s sake. But she couldn’t stop the little twinge it gave her heart to see the two of them smiling intimately at each other, talking sweetly, and just generally behaving like a couple-in-the-making.

Get over it, she told herself, time and again. It’s what Mom would want. And maybe that was true-she thought so-but for some reason, for once, what her mother would have wanted didn’t seem to be having much influence over her. Getting over it would be easier said than done.

“Tell me about your day,” her father said. “Did anything interesting happen?”

“Not really,” Kara replied.

“Good,” her father said, momentarily serious before his smile returned.

Swallowing a bite of pork-it was truly delicious, lean and infused with orange flavor-she gestured to both him and Miss Aritomo.

“Actually, at the calligraphy club meeting, Ren asked me and Sakura what our next manga was going to be.”

“Next?” her father said. “You just finished the first one.”

Kara nodded. “I know. Sakura’s been drawing like crazy for months. I’m sure she’s not in a rush to get started on another.”

“I don’t know about that,” Miss Aritomo said, taking a sip of plum wine. “She’s such a talented artist, and the manga has given her focus. I’m sure Sakura is already wondering the same thing. What is next for you two?”

Kara shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ve barely thought about it. Another Noh play, maybe. Something else creepy.”

A thin smile appeared on Miss Aritomo’s face and she raised an eyebrow, studying Kara over the rim of her glass. “I know just the thing.”

“Really?” Kara’s father said.

Miss Aritomo nodded. “I haven’t told the Noh club yet, but I’ve decided that this term, we’re going to perform an actual Noh play.”

“Seriously?” Kara asked, intrigued. “Miho will love that!”

“I think they all will,” Miss Aritomo said. “And it really would be perfect as a manga for you and Sakura as well. The story is gruesome and full of evil, just the way you seem to like them.”

Kara forced a smile, trying to hide the way she shuddered. Such tales did make for excellent manga, but she thought like might be too strong a word.

A fter a Saturday filled with classes and homework, Sunday morning began with a knock on her door. Kara sat at the dining table drinking a glass of juice, barely awake. She’d pulled on a pair of threadbare denim shorts and still wore the oversize T-shirt she’d slept in, and she rubbed sleep out of her eyes as she went to answer the door. Pulling it open, she found Miho and Sakura waiting on the stoop, smiling conspiratorially.

“Good morning, Kara!” Miho said brightly.

Kara leaned against the jamb, still half-asleep. “You guys aren’t supposed to be here for another hour.”

Sakura replied with an unusually open grin. “Change of plans. Get dressed. The guys will be here soon!”

Guys. Soon. That woke her up. Kara didn’t think of herself as especially vain, and Hachiro might even think the just-rolled-out-of-bed look was cute, but if they were going out, she wanted to pull herself together, and better to do it before the guys arrived.

More focused now, she studied the girls. Sakura had added a streak of red into her hair, though she’d have to take it out by the time school started tomorrow. Miho had her hair back in a ponytail, and both girls wore loose dresses. Under Sakura’s, she glimpsed the straps of a bikini. They had talked about going into Miyazu City today, having lunch with Hachiro and Ren, maybe doing a little shopping if the guys could be convinced to endure it.

“Wait, when you said change of plans…?”

Miho laughed and switched to English. “Now you’re awake. Yes, we’re going to the beach.”

It took a second for Kara to translate. She’d been speaking Japanese so much that half the time she thought in that language instead of her native tongue, and when Miho switched in the middle of a conversation, sometimes she had to catch up.

“Are we going with English today, then?” she asked.

“Of course!” Miho replied. “You promised.”

Sakura made a face. Speaking English helped them both to become more fluent in the language, just as speaking Japanese helped Kara. To Miho, it was fun, almost a game, and she hoped to live in America someday, at least for a year or two, to pursue both her career and American boys, who fascinated her endlessly. But Sakura had made it plain that spending hours speaking English felt too much like homework to her.

“All right,” Kara relented, still speaking English. “For a while at least.”

She stepped back to let the girls in. “Have some juice or something. I need to take a quick shower and get dressed. I’ll go fast. Try to be quiet, though. My dad’s sleeping late.”

At that, she heard a rustle of fabric from behind her and turned to find her father standing in his bedroom doorway in pajamas and a Boston Celtics shirt.

“Not anymore,” he said, smiling, his face dark with weekend chin stubble. “Good morning.”